Waiting
Waiting.
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate waiting?
I mean I am pretty good at waiting in line at the grocery store, but don’t ask for a price check if you don’t have to… know what I mean? Please have your discount card and your coupons out before you get to the cashier… because I will be that woman behind you that gives you the evil eye. Bob calls it my “stern lookin’ at”.
Waiting.
Copiers. Traffic jams. Even child-birth… I hate waiting.
So here I am waiting. Feeling selfish, but nonetheless still hating every moment of it.
Waiting for witnesses to overcome their fear.
Waiting for police to interview witnesses when they finally do come forward.
Waiting for evidence to be processed by an overworked lab.
Waiting for answers.
Waiting for over a year now.
Waiting.
I can understand the unrest in Ferguson. I don’t condone it. My readers have seen I’ve never condoned violence or held a violent protest in an attempt to get answers.
But I have definitely given a few people an earful… or at the very least one of my “stern looking ats”.
Does that help? No. Because I’m still here waiting.
And when they finally find the SOB that killed my son, then I’ll begin another round of waiting.
Waiting for the trial.
Waiting for the jury selection.
Waiting for the verdict.
Waiting for the appeals…
Waiting for the sentencing.
And in the long run, what will all of this waiting get me? Will it get me justice? Will it even get Corey justice?
I don’t know.
Maybe all it will do is ease my mind, help me know that there is one less murderer out there… And improve my ability to wait.
Leave a comment