At times, it’s hard to avoid feeling that I’ve been abandoned, exiled to this quiet, peaceful life of near solitude in Nowhere, Ohio. I saw this pathetic space-saver tire lying on the sidewalk along my meandering walk around the village yesterday. I feel a kinship with it as though we’ve both been cast off, having served our purpose. No longer needed, we wait together on the cold, hard pavement of life, lingering restlessly in anticipation of someone putting us back into service.
I have a few spare minutes while I wait for my mom. Once she has showered and “put her face on,” we’ll drive the 11.7 miles to Chief Supermarket in Bryan, Ohio. Actually, mom will drive because my license was stolen (along with my wallet) back in China, and I haven’t gotten around to replacing it.
So I’m sitting here on a flowery, off-white sofa, watching the shadows of the front yard’s ancient oak tree dancing on the floor in front of me. The morning sunshine is pouring in through the white Venetian blinds onto the beige carpet. Out of impatience and boredom, I’m tempted to drink another cup of coffee. Armed with the knowledge that a fourth cup of java would put my nerves on edge, something I certainly don’t need while I’m on this forced vacation, I’m able to resist temptation (this time).
I’ll sit here, patiently awaiting my mother’s announcement that she’s ready, while finding other things to occupy my time, if not my mind. The lovely flowers I shot while walking to the post office adorn this blog post only because I took a little of this waiting time to edit them. If these flowers could talk, oh, the joy they would speak of.