I don’t mind waiting. 

I’m not a patient person. I polished off my bucket list last year at age 33 because I’ve spent the last 20 years just plowing ahead with whatever plan my heart latched onto. 

But I’ve spent a ton of time just sitting around, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for a development. Generally, and I’m not sure how proud I am to admit this, but usually I’m waiting in a hotel lobby or outside a venue to see if I can spot a favourite artist. I’m never quite sure what the hell my plan is if I was to see someone, by the way; I never really think that far ahead. And I’m never 100% sure I’m in the right place, either. I just find a nice hotel and take a shot in the dark. 

It’s the thrill of the chase, really. 

I never ask for photos really, or autographs. In fact the only autograph I have of Lindsey Buckingham’s is one that I obtained at a paid meet and greet, on a pass I got 6 years earlier and dragged around with me to every show in case there was an appropriate moment. Hotels, to me, aren’t that moment. I have only one photo with him, too, and that was taken on the streets of Jacksonville, Florida. 

It’s not glamorous or terribly interesting. A friend came with me one time and didn’t know what to do with herself. She was asking, “when do we…do something? What else should we do?”

Nothing, says I, the Suddenly Patient Coyote. Nothing. You just sit, wait, and hope something cool happens. 

This post is a day late because yesterday, we got a call. My dad took a fall at work and broke his hip. He is in hospital right now, waiting for surgery. 

Waiting. 

I am giving him his space off and on, and now I’m downstairs in yet another lobby. A less interesting lobby. A scarier lobby. 

Waiting. 

Waiting not for something cool to happen, but for the process to start. Surgery. Recovery. Physio. 

I’ve been here before as a patient. I’ve had knee troubles, stomach troubles, and a weird arm injury. I’ve been in his position many times, lying in the bed. 

Waiting. 

But rarely have I been on this side of things. My husband had a minor procedure done a few years back, no big deal. My mother in law passed away in 2012, and I was visiting and ferrying caregivers back and forth from here. 

I’m by myself today. 

It sounds like he’ll make a full recovery. It sounds like it isn’t badly broken. It sounds like his brand new job will be waiting for him when he gets back. 

But right now, all we can do is wait. 

I’d rather be waiting in a hotel lobby. But waiting is waiting. 

Thankfully, it’s something I’m good at.