Least Expect It

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If patience is a virtue then I wonder if all my patience atones for my many shortcoming? I feel as though my entire life has been one long test of patience. As a small child I remember sitting at the end of the driveway, sometimes well into the night hours, waiting for my mom to show up for her all too seldom visits. I also remember being 8-years-old and my grandma insisting that I still take a nap on weekends. When I was caught in my room listening to record or reading, she would insist that I lay down with her. If I moved too much (or at all) she would scold me, “Stop that fidgeting and lay still!” Eventually I learned that if I lay perfectly still long enough, I would notice the change in her breathing when she finally drifted off and if waited just a little longer and was very, very careful; I could roll myself off the edge of the bed and escape undetected.

Then came the agonizing teenage years when I thought the boy of my dreams would never think of me as anything more than one of the gang, I was never going to be old enough to drive and graduation day would never come soon enough.The nine months before my daughters birth was an eternity, I would never survive the terrible-two’s and I would be forever buying diapers. That crappy old washer-n-dryer that we paid $20 for would never stop running, so we could get new ones that actually washed and dried our clothes. And I was never going to find my real passion in life.

However, like so many before me, I would proudly display the awful picture on my drivers license to my friends and my walk across the graduation stage is a distant memory. My daughter, and later my son, were out of diapers all-too-soon and I am continually baffled at that idea that I now have a grown daughter and a son very quickly approaching high school. I am on my second new set of washers and dryers and just a few short years ago I found my love for photography.

These days I find that I am no longer in a hurry for the next milestone or big change. Last year when we purchased our home on two acres, I reveled in my search for the few new pieces that we needed to make it home, never over anxious to decide on anything but rather enjoying the search and the process. The vintage metal milk jug in this picture represents, several “Junk Jubiliee’s” and vintage market stops. The best part is that when I found what I was looking for, I wasn’t even looking for it. I love that about life!

 

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