Still Waiting
By Chandler Lamm
Image By Nicole Moen
You wait to wear the dress until the moment is right.
It sits in your closet, beautiful, untouched. You imagine the occasion: the perfect place, the perfect people, the perfect feeling.
You leave the shoes in their box, too, the soles staying unmarked. You imagine wearing them somewhere beautiful, somewhere meaningful. You wait to drink the bottle of wine until the night feels special. You picture a table set with friends, laughter echoing off of your dining room walls. And alongside the wine bottle, waits the candle you’ve never lit, afraid the scent will be missed after the flame has lapped away at the last of the wick.
You wait to apologize. The words twist around in your head, tangled around sentences that will never fully form. You wait for the right time, the moment when it will matter. You wait while the days pass for a conversation that will never come.
You wait to tell them you love them until they are long lost. The words sit heavy on your chest, and you cannot breathe them out. You imagine the perfect moment: a shared look that never happens, a pause in conversation that stretches into nothing. You wait for permission, for a sign. Or maybe, you wait for them to want you, to need you, to tell you that you are their person. You watch for the signs, listen for the words, count the moments, but they never come. You wait for the timing to be right. You wait until your career is stable, until your house is settled, until you feel strong enough, certain enough, ready to risk it all. You wait while you build yourself up, preparing and planning to present a version of yourself that does not yet exist.
And while you wait, life continues on. Dust settles along the hem of your dress as the silk softens and the shine dulls. The leather soles of your shoes stiffen and the corners of the box begin to warp. Wine grows warm and candle wax fades. Overdue apologies fall on deaf ears. They move on. The words you held in your chest die there, unspoken.
You wait to hug, to kiss, to hold hands, to speak, and moments slip through your fingers as you are scared to grasp them. You wait to sit, to stand, to move, to leave, each pause stretching longer than the last. You wait to eat, to drink, to laugh, to cry, while glasses sit empty and laughter dies unheard. You wait to make the bed, to wash the dish, to throw out the trash, to water the plant. You wait to forgive, to accept, to remember, to try, to begin, to end. Every delay multiples. Every pause accumulates.
Eventually, you stop waiting. You don’t wait for the perfect moment, the perfect words, the perfect feeling. You speak the words, make the call, take the step, even if the timing feels wrong, even if it is awkward, even if it is late. The wine may be warm. The candle may run out. The world does not pause for you, and life has moved on, but in letting go, it moves with you too. You notice what is still here, what can still be done, what can still be felt. You begin simply by acting, even if imperfectly. And in doing so, you realize how much life has been waiting for you, too. You begin the move without waiting for permission. You stop rehearsing your words before you speak. You stop saving the good plates for a dinner party. You start wearing perfume on quiet days.
You learn that not everything needs to be perfect to be beautiful. That not every moment needs to mean something to matter. That love, and joy, and life were things that were never meant to be earned by timing them right, only things to be felt in the moment. You forgive yourself for all the things you didn’t do soon enough. You forgive the waiting, the wanting, the hesitating. You understand that the waiting was a lesson rather than wasted time.
You live differently. You light the candle, knowing it will burn out. You open the bottle, even if there’s no one to share it with. You wear the dress, even if no one will see it. You do it because you are here, because you can, because not everything needs a reason beyond that.
Life will still move forward. People will still leave. Time will still pass. But you will move with it. Not behind it, not waiting for it, but within it. You have stopped waiting and began living.
