A line cast, a hope followedThursday, February 26, 2004
My home computer is still without internet access, so we have a slight interruption in the supply line for da blog.
Today's request is for patience.
It's been three weeks since I last ran into him at work, it's a huge building, and I'm not even sure where he sits. I've had plenty of time to build up my nerve since the last hallway chat, resolve I will ask him his full name, suggest lunch, figure out once and for all if he is single, and interested, or just one of those really magnetic people. The next time I see him. Which takes three weeks.
He is standing outside as I walk up.
He is talking on his cell phone.
I wave, one of those silly little playing the piano keys with your fingers kind of waves.
He smiles.
I walk past him into the building acting like I haven't already imagined his shoes lined up in the closet next to mine. I walk past him like someone who has only talked casually in the halls three times in as many months and didn't expect anything more.
I say nothing, and settle in to wait some more, because I can't interrupt a phone call-if I do interrupt a phone call, it will be obvious that I've already imagined his shoes lined up in the closet next to mine, and really it is so absurd to feel that way about a total stranger.
What part of your body do you feel patience in?
Today's request is for patience.
It's been three weeks since I last ran into him at work, it's a huge building, and I'm not even sure where he sits. I've had plenty of time to build up my nerve since the last hallway chat, resolve I will ask him his full name, suggest lunch, figure out once and for all if he is single, and interested, or just one of those really magnetic people. The next time I see him. Which takes three weeks.
He is standing outside as I walk up.
He is talking on his cell phone.
I wave, one of those silly little playing the piano keys with your fingers kind of waves.
He smiles.
I walk past him into the building acting like I haven't already imagined his shoes lined up in the closet next to mine. I walk past him like someone who has only talked casually in the halls three times in as many months and didn't expect anything more.
I say nothing, and settle in to wait some more, because I can't interrupt a phone call-if I do interrupt a phone call, it will be obvious that I've already imagined his shoes lined up in the closet next to mine, and really it is so absurd to feel that way about a total stranger.
What part of your body do you feel patience in?
