Waiting For…

I’m waiting for the phone to ring. But it never does when I want it to. Plus, even if it did ring, there would be no one on the other end. I enjoy my solitude, beating to my own drummer, having a flexible schedule, spending time mainly with me. Even so, after so many hours in the company of myself, I want and need someone else around to interact with—most of the time.

Right now is one of those times. I feel friendless, boring, unwanted and pathetic. Come on phone, ring!…nothing to do but take a deep breath and a long sigh. Try to figure out what I will now do with the new hours of emptiness in front of me that I hadn’t planned for because I was hoping to share them with someone else.

I am waiting to wake up and start living. To get out of bed one morning, look around and think, “Damn girl! This is your life! What a dream.” I’m not sure that day will ever come. My life is too much of an enigma to me, I’m unsure of whether or not I’ll ever figure out how to live it gracefully. I’ll think I’ve finally succeeded in grasping it, only to find it wiggle and squirm right out of my hands once again.

I sometime try to imagine what I might look like to someone watching from “up above.” The image that pops into my head now is a long, wide, empty wooden floor, slathered in oil and melted butter. I’m bare foot at one end, and have to make it to the opposite side. Before starting on the journey, I dip my feet in a pot of the same mixture covering the floor and set out. I am also not allowed to crawl. What I sight I must be. Hey, at least my plight is good entertainment for someone. There is a little solace in that thought.

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