Outside feels alive with people coming and going. I sit here, waiting for someone special to arrive. To have someone to wait for. To have someone to miss. To have someone I am willing to wait to see. It’s another gift of life I treasure on this slow Sunday afternoon.
The hair blows a little in the wind as the cars pass me by. The exhaust duct makes too much noise, but it’s only doing what it was made for.
I look for you but I don’t hear you. You must be near, yet too far for me to hold.
My feet swing on a metal chain in front of me.
You haven’t even left yet, but I still wait here and not there because here is nearer and here is lovely.
It’s just one of those simple and slow days. Happy to be alive. Grateful for having an able body. Proud to have rowed 10 kilometers after a week of over indulgence. Proving to my biggest critic that I am still strong. I can still do this.
Waiting. Observing. Staying still. Looking up and about. Locked in my own thoughts. Free from the digital cell. For how long, only time will tell.
I sit here and wait. Actively do nothing. Choosing to abstain from the world as I unleash this thought into the digital abyss, from whence I escaped from.