Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock...

I vividly remember the sound of Elmer and Mabel Hammerstad’s ornate mantel clock that ticked away during the long afternoons I and my two oldest brothers spent in their care when we were young. We didn’t have a babysitter often, and there wasn’t much to do at the farm home of this elderly couple with no children. We waited and waited for Mom to pick us up.

Waiting is agonizing, unsettling, unwelcome. Another of my early memories of waiting was on Christmas Eve when the grown-ups purposely prolonged the meal with an extra cup of coffee and then endless conversation, knowing full well we were at their mercy to be excused and get the go-ahead to open presents. They delighted in making us wait — at least that’s how it seemed.

I’ve found waiting at any age can be difficult. It summons patience we often don’t have; it beckons us to be still, to live in the moment. If Google is to be believed, by the time we’re 70 we have spent three years of our lives simply waiting. A New York Times article claimed Americans spend 37 billion hours each year just waiting in line.

Over the past week I have been waiting for “the call.” My daughter Deanna’s due date was Oct. 5, and as I’m writing this she’s now four days late in delivering our first grandchild. I’m hoping by the time this column is published our wait will be over, but it’s possible we’re still waiting for this precious baby to make its entrance.

Of course I’ve had to recall that I was two and a half weeks overdue when our first child was finally delivered by C-section. I remember that wait, too. I was the editor of a weekly newspaper in Sidney, Montana, at the time, and so I knew most people in the community. Everywhere I went during my time in waiting I got the same question: “Haven’t you had that baby yet?”

I think there’s a big difference between waiting as a mother-to-be and as a grandmother-to-be. When you’re in your 20s you tend to live life with more blind faith that everything will turn out all right.

Thirty years later, a person tends to worry more, I believe, because you simply know too much. You know things can happen.

As I wait, I try not to worry but my mind has mulled over every scenario, worst-case and otherwise. Waiting is very hard work.

There’s no alternative, though. Waiting is so much a part of life. I’m counting on the adage, “Good things come to those who wait.” Patience is indeed a virtue.

So I wait ... tick, tock, tick, tock.

Features Editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or by email at lhintze@dailyinterlake.com