April 13th, 2015
At the toy store on Saturday he picked a dinosaur egg. The egg contained the promise of a baby T. Rex in exchange for about 48 hours of patience and $3.
He held the egg gingerly as I filled a cup with warm water, holding it down to his height once it was full for him to slip his egg into.
“It’s going to take a while,” I explained. “When you wake up tomorrow it will have started cracking open, I think.”
In the morning, sleepy-eyed, he looked for cracks, small signs that the dinosaur egg wasn’t an empty promise. There was a bulge on the side and flakes of egg making their way into the water, lining the sides of the cup.
He watched it and marveled at it for a while before he walked away to watch TV and read books and bother his sister.
At noon the dinosaur head was visible through a hole now appearing on top of the egg.
“Put me up there,” he asked, bringing his beloved dinosaurs with him, a blue T. Rex named Dine and a red Stegosaurus named Steg. Miles and Steg and Dine watched that egg intently, guarding it and looking for any signs of more cracks or scales or flakes.
It was a test of four year old patience and he was passing.
Today after school he ran inside to find the whole dinosaur out of the egg, or at least clearly ready for his small hands to remove it the rest of the way. There is only so much waiting a kid can do.
“It hatched!” He yelled. “I waited and it hatched!” He had waited almost two days. Waited patiently and trusted that the egg would hatch and free the dino he couldn’t wait to have. I admired his patience and his enthusiasm. I marveled at his trust in the process and his ability to just sit back and watch. He had waited. And it had hatched.
All night he nurtured his baby T. Rex, wrapping it in a blanket, rocking it in his two hands, holding it on his shoulder, introducing it to the rest of his dinosaur clan. He named him “Cutie” and he took care of him like he really was a freshly hatched dinosaur.
Sometimes I read more than I write because I am impatient with words. I am loathe to wait for them to come to me, to work hard to extract them, to do the work of making myself vulnerable enough to write words that are true enough to be worthy of existing in this space.
Sometimes I want the egg to hatch right now. No waiting. And when I’m impatient I wonder if the words will ever come easily again, if my patience will pay off, if all the effort of living a writing life is worth it.
Today I woke up to an email that told me one of my blogs has been selected as a BlogHer Voice of the Year. I submitted it myself on a whim a few months ago and never dreamed that it would be chosen. It was a post that I had written after much thinking, a post perhaps more vulnerable than many that find their way here. I am proud that I wrote it.
Reading that email this morning and seeing my name on the list with so many amazing writers makes me want to be patient, to wait for the words, the right ones, to know that they are there even when I doubt the effort to find them is worth it.
To wait patiently for the next story to hatch.