Sitting On the Steps of What’s Next

My husband and I took our almost-four-year-old son, Mitchell, to the Orange County Fair yesterday. It was his first time, and he was well aware of all the colors, noises, games and other diversions – everything left him overwhelmed and crying on the steps of the bumper car ride. Just a case of wanting to do everything at once? Perhaps. I am almost 40 and still feel that way, and although I have yet to find myself on the steps of an amusement ride, I do find myself often on the steps toward whatever is next.

What is it like sitting, waiting, wondering what is at the top of the steps? You could say it is my hopes, dreams and desires, but then you’d sound like an ad writer. Whatever is up there remains a mystery. I like to think it is a door that could open at any minute. There is no “Be Back At Noon” sign on the front, or a decal that lists what hours that the door is open. I simply sit and wait, occasionally running back down the steps and then up again, hoping that action on my part will somehow make the door open. Sometimes, like my son, I cry on the steps, frustrated and overwhelmed with it all. The urge to just run down all of them and away is tempting. But this is my door, and patience is part of the game that ultimately will lead to it being opened.


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