Awaiting

6:06 am Monday
I’ve been up for sixty-six minutes. The air conditioning unit is already working hard. Downstairs the TV is blaring. I snuck down to get my morning coffee, but the dog caught me and I gave him some rubs.

I’ve got three quarters of an hour between now and when I need to leave for the work day. Enough time to start but not finish writing whatever this will turn out to be. I could have chosen to meditate or, if I really wanted to stretch myself, do a short yoga routine (it’s been ages since I’ve done so), but I choose to write. Writing brings me comfort these days.

Last night we had a full house. My nephew’s birthday and a big family affair. Still young, and an only child, it was the adults that were being boisterous while he played quietly. Until it came time to sing the birthday song and make a wish. His face lit up and he thought very hard. I don’t know what he wished for, but I wish for it too.

Yesterday, my daughter called. Her grandma, hearing her voice, rushed over slowly to say hello. Standing shakily she took the phone and sent kisses. Her lip prints are still on the screen. So cute.

I’m heading to Suzhou this morning. It’s a neighboring city to Shanghai where I live and I used to go often. It’s been half a year since my last visit due to Covid restrictions. I’m not sure I even remember the driving route. I feel anxious despite making the trip dozens of times before. Something about the distance of time that makes familiar things feel uncomfortably new again. It’s not about the drive, but about meeting the people on the other side. I get anxious around people although my work colleagues would probably never guess. I fake it good (I suppose grammar would suggest I say “well” here, but I like the sound of this just the way it is).

6:36am and a half hour has passed just like that. I should get dressed soon. Not just a nice shirt today but actual pants. The downside of having to go to the office. I’m still not sure exactly what this piece is about. I guess it doesn’t need to be about anything. I already said that I wouldn’t have time to finish, so I don’t even need to come up with an ending. Unintentionally good planning on my part.

Be well,

Monty

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