(I usually don't write much of actual substance here and not sure if this will count, but warning: this isn't about a cat photo. And might not have a point.)
I'm not a runner. Lately, not even a walker. I'm in pain pretty much all day. I'm waiting for a back surgery and a few other things. Waiting sucks. The meantime is a hard time. Trying to be patient. It's a test.
I just drove to my parents' house for a change of scenery and couch. I knew they weren't home. I have been working on projects all weekend and just needed a break from my own head and space. I am so thankful I have their house as an option, just twenty minutes door to door.
I laid in the dark watching a movie (Never Let Me Go) and eating their Cheetos (along with cookies, a constant in their house). But before that, I stopped and smiled as I saw their anniversary cards to each other. Loved that.
On the way home, saddened by the eerie movie and in somewhat of a trance, I put the top down and took the long way home. I put in a cd from the case I grabbed randomly before leaving for their house. The Postal Service, Give Up. Blasted it. In a trance. I hit twelve green lights in a row. It was a straight shot of beats and stoic driving, thinking. Looking at the lights.
I got to an intersection and it just smelled like high school. Like the smell in the air of waiting, yearning, for the next big thing, the next decision, the next yes, the next no, the next dance, the next note in class, the next time you saw Him in the hall. Hard to describe the smell. But it was right there, for a split second.
At the next intersection I hit a red light and glanced to my left, first time moving my head the entire drive. My friend from high school in the car next to me. I hadn't seen him in over a year. Was just thinking about him. Weird.
Next intersection, people in the same car as me. So happy. Great Sunday drive.
It got me thinking about waiting and yearning and being grateful at the same time. Waiting, impatiently, for change. Heart content with constants. Mom and Dad's. Cheetos. Old CDs. Endorphins from moving with speed with wind in your hair and music in your ears (as a runner, or in my case, driver.) I drove to Mom and Dad's feeling sorry for myself and impatient. Drove home thinking that the anticipation of what's next, that wonder, that the next little thing is going to be The Biggest Deal In The World just makes you feel young again. I welcome it. It's awesome.
Pia The Pig