waiting

How good to have this time of year

designated for waiting in eager anticipation.

We know how it all will end -- the barn, the baby, the guiding light.

But for now, I want to pretend that I do not know,

that nothing is definite or predictable.

Let's pretend that I am on the advent of something new.

That my life is coming, arriving, about to begin.

Because, really, that's what is happening. For me. For you.

Here I sit, a fat, weary 47 year old,

with some inclination that I know how it will all turn out.

And there you are too. Alone. Not alone.

Prepared. Stocks bonded and bonds stacked.

With a baby on your hip. A father in ICU.

Cells dividing toward life or death. Who knows.

Tomorrow, I will talk to someone I have never met.

Tomorrow, I will see something I have never seen.

Tomorrow, I will feel something I have never felt,

reminiscent, perhaps, all of it, but still new.

This is advent. A time of waiting,

a time of watchful preparation.

I know what I want and need, but

I do not know what is coming,

I do not know when it will arrive.

And for that, this night, I give

my restless and hopeful thanks.