This post has been prompted by Rattling On's poignant photos and her own comment this morning. It reminded me forcibly of how it feels to be stuck, patiently (or not) waiting while life appears to flow vibrantly on around, but not touching, us.
When I was a young, lonely, single mother with a toddler, living in a backwater where nothing much ever happened, I used to have two recurrent dreams. One was of doing the washing up. Interminably. I swear that this dream occurred at a real-time pace; I washed up for hours, bored and listless, dishes piling up, in a dull grey atmosphere.
In the other dream, I stood at the side of a small rural road, with nothing in view until suddenly a car would race past at impossible speed, to be followed by another, and another, while I watched, wistfully aware that I was at a standstill, going nowhere, while cars/people/life raced past me.
Things changed, thankfully, but oh, how slowly that change came, how patient I had to be!
Thank goodness for this lively, characterful little boy who gave me so much enjoyment and so many interesting things to do in my waking hours!
Perhaps my dreams were too one-sided; in many ways, I am grateful for that quiet, uneventful time that allowed me to grow up, to develop as a mother, and for the first time, to apply some careful thought to my future.
The hours of washing up dreaming were a bit unnecessary, though....