Lawyers say this is the hardest part of a trial. The jury has the case. The talking heads are reading tea leaves and prognosticating based on their years of experience and the networks' need to fill the air with blather.
But there's nothing real except the wait.
I've waited before.
April 16, 1969, when the college acceptance letters were due to land in our mailboxes. The applications had been submitted months ago, the interviews far in my rear view mirror. All I could do was wait.
Nine months and too many days pregnant and ready to start parenting instead of housing. Despite TBG driving me over the bumpiest roads in the neighborhood, trying to move things along, all I could do was wait.
Gathered in the tennis club's party space with the supporters of our ballot measure, watching as the votes were recorded on the blackboard on a table near the windows. The quality of our children's education hung in the balance, and all we could do was wait.
Submitting a bid on a house. Buying a lottery ticket. Rolling the dice.
Waiting is hard.
I wonder how The Defendant is coping.
If you want to know how he's coping, check his Truth Social feed, that'll tell ya'.
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