(Anything But) Routine

#Reverb14 is the opportunity for us to reflect and project throughout 2014.   Each month, Kat, Sarah and I will be posting on a new prompt.  Please check out the #ProjectReverb main pain and join in.

Routine: Have you started a new routine this January?  Is this routine different from last year?  Is it the result of a resolution or goal you’re working on?  Tell us about your days.  How do they flow?  If you’d like, maybe give us a full “day in the life” or just some snippets.

My life is anything but routine these days.

I am waiting.  Waiting for news.  Waiting for the phone to ring.

Waiting is fine for other people, I keep telling myself. I am not a patient woman; I am used to skipping to the head of the class, the front of the line.  I had to wait to board a plane for the first time in years, recently, and it was stupidly jarring.  But…how have I forgotten who I am; what kind of idiot am I who thinks it is her birthright to go first?

So what makes me worthier of right now?

The answer is…nothing.

Not desire; not status; not…anything.  When it comes to waiting — the cosmic wait — I am just one amongst many; one amongst millions and billionsTake a number, kiddo.  Wait it out.

Since December, that has been the routine:  Wait it out.

I wait.  I phone friends.  I try to go about my daily routine — what’s left of it.  I snuggle up with the dog

When this process got started, the doctor’s nurse told me to write down some words that were meaningful.  I wrote down: Patience; bravery; stillness. When this process was well underway, she told me: You have great veins, as she took my blood.  They always say that to me, like having great veins can set aside the cognitive dissonance of the seeing a youngish, healthy-looking woman curled up in a hospital bed.

Today, the phone rings; the wait is over.  This is the news I have been waiting for.

It is weird, suddenly, to find that I have come through a thing I never fully knew I was suffering.  It is strange to suddenly possess a new vocabulary of sharp and dangerous words.  Cutting words; cut-out words.  I have, without my complete knowledge or consent, inherited a lexicon of survivor words.

And so begins a new life and a new routine.  It is a peculiar, quiet triumph.

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