All good things come, as we know, to those who wait.
I am not a patient person. Friends, extended fam and clan will vouch for that. But I am used to waiting. Mostly for daughters, truth be told. The last cough, cough twenty plus years a blur of running feet, breakfast grabbing, and shouting upstairs for the missing daughter (yes you, you know who you are).
I have sat for hours in cars various, dance studios various and swimming pools most various, freezing or sweltering depending on venue. Oh and school halls, corridors and car parks. Let’s not forget the marking of time for education’s sake.
A mother’s lot?
I have made many friends, waiting.
More than a year ago I wrote about what I wanted for Christmas. Using being mrscarmichael as my ‘weapon’ of choice I begged, pleaded and cajoled my nearest and dearest for an art work close to my heart. With kindness in said heart I provided choice.
My N and D chose to give me other things. That were lovely. I am not penning this with complaint in mind.
This year a good thing has come in the guise of Shim Sham Shimmy. Here she is:
I waited, I received. She’s at the framers.
The waiting room wish list: Dear Santa