So, today after work I drove up to Tacoma for a church sports weekend, and I stopped for dinner along the way near Chehalis at my usual dinner stop along the way. I was concerned about arriving a little bit late at the house where I was staying and had no idea how many people were staying here. When I arrived at the house, which I had never visited before, I was not entirely sure I was in the right place, but after knocking at the door and ringing the doorbell I was met by a neighbor who wanted to make sure that my intentions were honorable and that I was not some kind of thief. Upon demonstrating that I was there for Tony and that I was at the correct house, I proceeded to wait, glad that I would not have to be explaining any social awkwardness to a potentially humorless Tacoma police officer, even though one did drive by the neighborhood on his normal circuit.

While I waited, I wondered, as is my fashion. I counted the cars that came in and out of the road where my host was staying. I wondered how long I would have to wait. I wondered if there was some sort of lesson to my waiting, about making sure that I had some details about whether someone would actually be at the house when I arrived, and having some phone numbers to call people so that I would not have to be entirely alone. I wondered if my waiting tonight had any kind of larger significance for my general concern about waiting. I wondered about what I would be doing over the course of the weekend, and whether there would be any kind of response to my requests to dance, and the conversations that I pondered about having, if it came to that. I wondered about how much this waiting reminded me of being a kid when I always had to wait to be picked up by my mom, sometimes for hours at a time, and would have to keep myself amused by using my mind or by writing, two activities that come easily.

And I would end up waiting for a long time, two hours in fact, before anyone else came, and then I found that I would be sharing living room space with a group of people who I recognized but for the most part did not know well, but it was still good company nonetheless. There was a couple with a lovely child, another couple, and another single guy along with me sharing the floor space of a living room, air mattress to air mattress, full of silly conversation, most of the other people enjoying a drink, and a lot of strange references to movies and television shows, along with an adorable three year old singing songs that didn’t make sense to anyone else trying to join in on the conversation. The wait was worthwhile, but it would have been nice if I hadn’t have needed to wait at all, or if I could have gotten on the internet connection and shared these thoughts as they happened. Oh well, life isn’t perfect, but if I have to wait, at least I am good enough to wait well. May all of my waiting end so happily.