Waiting for the Shoe

Because, what if?

What is the shape of waiting? Waiting has a shape.

Because, sometimes it is a box holding Jack the clown,

or a lake hiding unknown creatures in the deep.

Sometimes it is a room full of night terrors

or a garden of sweet peas.

We are all waiting for that shoe. That shoe that hangs there, not dropping. You know the one. Because, what if?

We are all waiting.

Standing at the bus stop,

watching the pot,

listening to the tic-toc,

breathing in the impatience of the patients,

listening for the postman’s step,

afraid of the news program,

staring at the rain clouds,

hungering for the meal,

hovering over the garden,

patting the womb,

dreading the loss.

Somewhere it has already hit the floor, that shoe,

somewhere on the other side of the world,

or just next door in your neighbor’s living room.

You think it’s only yours that hangs there, waiting?

Because, what if? But what if you could fill that waiting space?

What if you could fill that waiting space with a map that showed you the way home?

Every story is the same story. Trying to get home.

Listen, somewhere the shoe has already hit the floor. Your other self is getting on

the bus, preparing the meals, picking up the mail, answering the phone. Listen we’re

all in the same story, you know that.

We are all waiting for the sound of that shoe. What if we stopped holding our breath,

and listening for the shoe,

and what if we welcomed the Invisible Gift of letting go?

And what if the Invisible Gift is actually waiting for us?

Waiting to welcome us home,

waiting to say, “finally, finally, they have come home.”

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