About the verb – “TO WAIT”

We, Mothers.
We are made
To wait.

I don’t know if it’s a “hobby” we chose ourselves,
Or if it was pinned on us like an honorable medal.
Without asking us.
For a long time.

We wait for the two little stripes on a funny little device.
Then nine months we wait for the first date with the new inhabitant of the earth.
The date happens. Nine months of waiting are over.
But we, Mothers, are greedy. We never get enough.
We keep waiting, until they:

Lift their head.
Roll over.
Sit up.
Taste their first porridge.
Don’t spit out that porridge anymore.
Start crawling.
Get the first tooth.
Then the next one.
Take their first steps across the room.
Start walking.
Put together their first words.
Form a sentence.
Start feeding themselves.
Sleep through three uninterrupted hours.
Sleep through the whole night.
Stop chasing whales.
Give up the nighttime potty.
Go to kindergarten.
Go to kindergarten without tears.
Draw their first picture.
Draw Mom.
Learn the numbers.
Learn the letters.
Start putting syllables together.
Learn to brush their teeth by themselves.
Learn to brush their teeth well by themselves.
Tidy up their room.
Do it without help.
Make their bed.
Get dressed.
Pick clothes appropriate for the weather.
Hang their clothes neatly.
Take a shower.
Take a shower without flooding the bathroom.
Brush their hair.
Make breakfast.

Has all this happened? We, Mothers, magical,
We keep waiting:

Until they learn to ride a bike.
Swim without the “doggy style.”

Until they:
Make friends.
Find hobbies.
Go to school.
Read their first book.
Write a good essay.
Recite their first free-verse poem.
Go on a week-long camp.

And is that all already enough? Stop.
Mothers are special.
They don’t give up.
And continue…
Every day.
For many years—
Even though it seems like they’ve already seen it all.
They wait.
For those coming home.
After a day at school.
After a week at camp.
After a month of studies.
After a year abroad.
They wait.
Through successes and failures.
To be able to hug them tightly.

……

……

……

And sometimes.
Very rarely.
Between all the “waiting,”
They, no longer babies,
Just fall asleep in our arms. Just as they used to, many years ago.

Back then: your hands would go numb, your back would ache.
You’d count the minutes in your mind, waiting for deeper sleep so you could safely lay the treasure down in the crib.
You’d feel frustrated that those big round eyes didn’t hide under their lashes sooner.
Your mind would be full of little thoughts and strategic plans, how to free your hands faster and get back to work.

And now I sit, holding my breath.
Not moving.
Not thinking of any task more important than this moment, and…
Watching such an incredibly rare sight,
I unconsciously whisper in my mind:
“Stop, lovely moment.
And just stay.”

Among all the “so many” waitings,
Right now
I am NOT waiting for anything. ❤

But tomorrow.
I will wait again.

V.