Compared to most people in other countries, or even in the same state, my life is relatively laid back and simple. I don’t have to worry about food, shelter, running water, education, or even my future as much as others do. Everyone’s ‘scale’ is different. The scale of economic status and mental well-being fluctuates from family to family, person to person to person. So when I say the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and am still doing, is simply waiting, then many immediately see an impatient brat that won’t mean anything to future society. That may be the truth in another’s eyes, but I can’t see it that way.
Waiting for my parents to come pick me up, waiting for my parents to come home, waiting for school to start, waiting for school to end, waiting for marching band, waiting for my future to become clear, waiting for something. All this waiting is prohibiting me from stepping forward and looking out that window of opportunity in which I know I’m supposed to have, but can’t seem to find. Now I’m not saying the ones responsible for my waiting are my parents, teachers, or peers, but as what one person does effects another they all play a part in my waiting game.
Waiting at school is an entirely different thing than waiting at home. There are people, and even if there are none around there are always echoes of games going on or kids playing around. Of course I get impatient waiting for my parents to come get me in the evening, but I often have things to do. Ever since I entered school I’ve been waiting. I’ve gone to two different day care centers, all of which I was there from seven a.m. to six p.m. Then middle school came and changed everything.
During that time in which a kid isn’t quite a child but definitely isn’t a teen is supposed to be the hardest time of one’s adolescence. But I’d have to say it was the best. Finally there was a time when I could just walk home, only a mile away, and have free time spent however I wanted for a few hours! Alone in the house was great for a few hours, but it soon got old.
Being entirely trusted by my parents now and my brother having moved out the house was free reign for the summer. My parents were gone from seven a.m. to seven p.m. and the only thing I had to do was a few chores. Our neighborhood is fairly old, or I rather resided by the old, and so there were no people of my age to play with and no one within walking distance. I went outside by myself, but that quickly grew tiring. But staying at our house with no company but a noisy cat and a quiet dog was the alternative, not even an option. So all summer I waited, and all summer I still wait.
Even now I’m waiting. Waiting to go home, waiting for the weekend. Though its not so bad now that I’m in high school, the waiting still creeps into my every day activities. Perhaps everyone waits and I’m just not noting how similar I am to them. Perhaps I am just an impatient brat and want to drive. Or maybe it’s the being alone for such long periods of time and then sucked back into the ‘real world’ that drives me crazy. I don’t know the answer, I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.