Waiting for a ride

I remember waiting more when I was young. I still recall the times when you couldn’t lift your cellphone five minutes past the scheduled time. When waiting meant a limbo, a state of hope, of looking for my mother’s car in the cold. I know I could recognize the sound of her engine before I see the headlights in the snow. Yet every approaching headlight is a hope of being wrong. When you cannot move every minute is an hour, every second crawl on skin becoming itch; in the deepest pit of my stomach burns concern and worry. I need to pee. when finally I hear the car; I’m solemn, sully, bored. “How was your day?” She smiles. I bend my head and say:”OK.”

every flake of snow —
different as numbered stars
still melts to water

Snow Flurry by Alexander Calder

Snow Flurry by Alexander Calder

Tomorrow we have a surprise guest prompting the haibun Monday at dVerse. The theme is waiting, come and join us at 9 PM CET.

Jan 23, 2016

27 responses to “Waiting for a ride

  1. I feel this.

    Several sections grabbed my attention, but the part about having to pee, for me, was the centerpiece of the poem. Always go for the startle.

    I’ve been feeling like I can’t remember how to write. But now I may recall.

  2. Oh I do love this……..the child in you waiting for your mum….anxiety increasing, love so plainly there and then, when she arrives, that sullen yeah okay. You’ve truly captured the essence of the child growing into the boy into the man and yet still having the childish ways. 🙂
    And the haiku complements it so well….

  3. You captured the angst and frustration of waiting for that car, that engine to arrive. And a beautiful winter haiku of the melting snowflake ~

  4. I loved this Bjorn, I too have been there waiting for a parent, the expectation building and if they were late the sense of indignation that how dare they be late…..thanks for participating I very much liked your contribution.

  5. Oh! This poem really touch my memories. My brother and/or my parents kept me waiting sometimes for an hour. Mexico City is chaotic,and being a young female teenager there is not always so easy. But at the end someone always came to find me. 🙂

  6. Having waited in the past for one or both my my folks to pick me up, I can relate. I was always the last one to be picked up after orchestra practice. But oh! that wise haiku.

  7. You’ve painted that picture so well, Björn! We didn’t have a family car and my mother never learned to drive, but I remember so well waiting for the bus in all kinds of weather – especially in fog, because the bus headlights were so easily discernible from those of cars,

  8. THIS is the essence of childhood, Bjorn….the expectation, the anxiety, the fear of being forgotten…and I think you are at your most human in this haibun. I love, love, love this piece. And the haiku was transcendent! Bravo, Bjorn.

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