Wait for the time to come, they said.
Wait for it to hit you in the head, brain you, knock you back.
Not like an accidental bystander, no, face it, your front forward, your back backward, your knees bent, your feet set.
And then feel it, experience it, absorb it.
Cushion it like a catcher in the last inning of a Sunday double header.
Breathe it, they said, in and out.
Wait for the time to come, they said.