Boca Cerrada: The Joy In Waiting

October 19th. Monday. Late.

Ya te dije que no.  And I'm tired of repeating myself.

The answer is the same today as it was yesterday and last week and last month. Before you ask, I want to blurt out "no" when I see you because I know what you will ask.

No. I am not pregnant yet and each time you ask and offer a wealth of advice, it reminds me that I am failing my husband and my family.

"Oh, but you already have two kids," is the most hurtful phrase to surface from a mouth.  It wouldn't matter if I had one or four, the feeling remains the same.  My husband and I would like a child and I cannot carry one at this time.  There is much to learn in that.  To find joy in the midst of waiting is a quiet peace.

Therefore, I will allow my life to be the birth and rebirth of something extraordinary.  I will allow our new garden to surround me with abundant life as I watch our pinto beans and watermelon vines crawl up our front window.

I sit in quietude, a lesson in humility.  Where I take for granted that I am a woman capable of creating life inside me in the form of a child, I must notice that I create life in my home when I choose to love what I have been gifted.  I am surrounded with life to remind me that it comes in all forms.  God makes sure of that.

Tonight, with my boca cerrada, I sit on my porch, my legs crossed, my back against the writing dock (porch swing) and my eyes averted toward the heavens.  I see the moon staring back at me; it always shows up.  My perspective might be skewed by the clouds, but each and every night the moon shows up.  I take a deep breath and wait.

What are you waiting for and how do you find joy in the waiting con la boca cerrada?

Onlookers at moon observation night.  McAllister Park.
Carolina Hinojosa-Cisneros, 2015

The Magic of the Wow!

Last night, in a circle of friends that are quite older and definitely more adventurous than we are, we spoke upon the life of the world and it's incessant need to be wowed.  As we impatiently wait for the wow (the miracle), we completely miss the wow and the beauty of the wait as the wow unfolds.

Are we not wowed anymore?  Are we so plagued by the daily grind that we miss the miraculous? I wonder.

We visited New York earlier this year and stopped in at O Cafe near the Jefferson Market Library to have Finnish Sandwiches and a Kenyan over pour and I remember, in great detail, the sandwich, the coffee, the steady drizzle of the rain creating a dense fog that crept along the sidewalk as calm and steady gazed pedestrians and their pets made their way into the cafe and into the bagel shop near to us.

I didn't miss the woman feeding her little one nor did I miss the man sitting straight faced listening to something in his earbuds audible only to him.  When we left New York, I couldn't stop talking about the incredible height that we reached as we climbed the narrow stairwell up to the Jefferson Market rooftop where the huge bell hung not yet rung.  I was wowed by that moment overlooking Manhattan and her monuments of tall skyscrapers and ant like yellow taxi cabs.

I missed the wow at the O Cafe.  I missed the story of the single mother who made her way to the cafe to purchase an espresso for her boss as she contemplated quitting that job to become a writer.  I missed that one.  I even missed the story of the woman who sang opera in the subway utilizing the acoustics of the tunnel while singing of her plight in the city of Detroit where she had just escaped being homeless.  I missed it.

How many times have I missed being wowed? This is something I'm still working on as a human being.  I need to stop waiting for it and start being quiet enough to notice it.

#writingeverydayinAugust  #bewowed