Sitting and Waiting

I made a conscious decision about how to spend my Labor Day weekend.  I figure it’s always important to make conscious decisions because the alternative seems, well...odd.  I made the decision to go along with Momma Debi to Sister Pister’s high school rodeo that was held in a town about an hour and a half away.  A smallish town.  Obviously, Sister Pister was also along for the ride seeing as how she was the one doing the competing.  So, I made the decision to spend two days driving the pickup/trailer, sitting, waiting, sitting, and waiting some more.  I am not skilled at sitting and waiting.  Truly, I must admit, even though I knew I would have quality time with Momma Debi and Sister Pister, I was not so much looking forward to the weekend.  Again, here’s why.  Sitting and waiting. 

On Saturday morning, my alarm went off at 4:45 am and I let it go off as I laid there and thought, “Hmmm...maybe I could just meet them later.  I think I’m sick; I better not go.  My toe hurts.  I can’t sit at a rodeo with a hurt toe.”  Finally, I decided I should at least get up and shut the alarm off.  Then, I was up so I stayed up, floofed the hair, threw some mascara on, grabbed some clothes and placed them in luggage, texted Momma Debi asking her if she was going to bring the shampoo and conditioner because help me Rhonda if my hair doesn’t have conditioner, packed up my camera, gave myself one last pep talk, and jumped in my vehicle.  Then, I stopped at Sbucks to grab us some treats because here’s what I know about iced black coffee: it makes any morning alright, it changes your taste buds to actually enjoy bitter, it’s like an IV drip of caffeine, and it makes my heart happy. 

After all of that, I still was feeling a sense of dread for the weekend of sitting and waiting as I was driving out to the farm.  Then, on the drive, my spirits started to lift.  The sunrise was beautiful and I would have missed it had I not decided that a hurt toe is no reason to stay in bed, the radio was actually playing good music, and when I got to the farm I was greeted by a perky Sister Pister ready to tackle her weekend. 

I proceeded to put my luggage, camera bag, laptop bag, and purse into the pickup all the while Dad-o was marveling at my ability to pack lightly.  I know he was.  He also was wondering why I didn’t bring him a fru-fru drink from Sbucks.  I wasn’t aware he would enjoy one. 

So, Momma Debi, Sister Pister, and I headed down the road to start our weekend.  The conversation was a flowing and at one point, Sister Pister exclaimed from the middle of the back seat, “You have to stop talking with your hands!  It’s driving me crazy!”  I said back to her, “That just isn’t possible.”  She got over it and my mom, my sister, and I had an hour and a half of uninterrupted visiting time.  It was a gift. 

Once at the rodeo, I managed to park the pickup and trailer without side swiping anything or anyone and the sitting and waiting began.  I started to go mildly bananas.  I knew I needed something to occupy my mind.  Momma Debi said the smallish town just built a Walmarts so I figured maybe getting a book to read would help with the sitting and waiting.  Off to Walmart we went.  Well, that’s a lie.  First we had to unhook the trailer and the ball was stuck to the gooseneck.  I was getting more and more perturbed because I was getting dirty, jumping up and down in the back of the pickup, and banging a piece of wood against the ball all the while looking a bit like a gong show.  Momma Debi said we should just ask “this guy” for help.  I proclaimed that no we did not need help.  Then, I got even more dirty and did some more banging of a piece of wood against the ball.  Then, Momma Debi went for help.  I knew the instant this guy tried to get it, the gooseneck would magically lift off of the ball.  I just knew it.  Sure enough, this guy did the exact same thing I had just done twenty-three times, Sister Pister jacked it up, and just like magic, the gooseneck lifted off the ball.  I’m stubborn and fiercely independent and this was enough to just about send me to the land of ticked off.  In fact, I said to this guy, “I’m ticked now.  I’m stubborn and I’m ticked.”  And, then he said to me, “That’s the makings of a good woman.”  I think that was a compliment.  Kind of like when someone the other day told me I was “well kept.”  Another odd compliment, but I’m pretty sure it still counts.

Anyways, after getting the trailer unhooked was finally checked off the to-do list, we headed off to Walmarts where I purchased Eat, Pray, Love...the book.  And, I was a little thrown off that the movie has now become the cover of the book.  I wanted the book that had the original cover.  Because, books are always better than movies and the original cover is what the author had intended to use to portray the feeling and theme of their writing.  Also, reading the book that has the cover with the movie scene makes me feel like I joined a bandwagon and I’m not all about that.  {Except the Dallas Cowboys bandwagon of the mid 90s.  I totally joined that.}  I also grabbed some grapes, cherries, and carrots.  Oh, and a pack of gum. 

When we arrived back at the rodeo grounds, there was time to spare.  Sitting and waiting.  Sitting and waiting.  I started to go mildly bananas again.  But, then I made another conscious decision.  The decision that sometimes it’s alright to let myself just be.  Yes, just be. 

Be sitting in the warm, fall sun with the comforting chomping of a horse eating next to me and the swishing of the horse’s tail keeping time. 

Be mindful of the quiet breeze gently blowing. 

Be enjoying reading a book without letting my mind wander to other thoughts.

Be grateful for the forced still. 

And, that sometimes it’s those very moments when the good stuff of life happens and if I’m constantly worried about what I should be doing and what I might be missing and what I have on my list, then I miss out on the sitting and waiting part of life. 

The part of life that allows you to spend an entire weekend with your mom and sister. 

The part of life that allows you to witness how far a person can push themselves when they love something. 

The part of life that allows you to hear baby belly laughs.  And, baby belly laughs will instantly make you happy. 

The part of life that allows you to have the time and clarity to reflect on how truly blessed you feel that things that could have been so much scarier to face didn't happen because you don't know what you would do if you didn't get to see this anymore.  The look of a loving mom and grandma. 

The part of life that allows you to be in the presence of family without having to rush off somewhere to get something done.

The part of life that allows you to be reminded that sometimes you have to just get back up. 

The part of life that allows to remember there is beauty everywhere.  You just have to take the time to look. 

The part of life that couldn’t get much better.  Because it turns out, it was the sitting and waiting that made me feel like I was doing something this weekend.  Just a different kind of something.