Tuesday

       When you are waiting for something desirable, and which is certain to arrive, time slows. Despite the clock’s spiteful wizardry, as its hands trudge their way around the face, one cannot help but feel increasingly happy as the anticipated event draws nearer.  But what happens to the time when you wait for an uncertain arrival?

Ten chimes rang from the clock. A ping of happiness arose, then washed away quickly. I felt something was not right.

Although the risen sun and polished glass collaborated to create a painful glare, my gaze was fixed through the window.  Occasionally my eyes’ attention would be commanded elsewhere, but they would always return to their place, overlooking the driveway.  Hope and hopelessness battled within me, and with each passing minute hopelessness conquered a little more of my heart’s territory.

I was waiting for Jane. I cannot say that I let her go, for I had very little say in her departure. I am afraid I may have taken her for granted. When we were together, I enjoyed every moment, but I experienced the strongest feelings when we were apart. Memories of her voice, her scent, her warmth as we huddled under a blanket on the couch elicited emotions that were perhaps stronger than the feelings during those moments themselves.  

 I have been sad before; this is not the first time. It was always Jane who would be my comforter. There was a cat, Elvis, a companion of Jane’s for a very long time. I don’t believe Elvis liked me and, frankly, I never liked him. One day Elvis died, and I am embarrassed to admit that I suffered grief beyond my expectations. I don’t know if it was simply a reminder of mortality or if I enjoyed the company of him more than I realized, but it was my eyes, the ones currently staring through the window, that shed a tear that day. Jane was heartbroken, but she was strong as always. She simply glided her soft finger back and forth on my head which rested in her lap, as the contents of this very head struggled to comprehend the feelings within. There is some irony that my great consoler’s absence would require the most consolation. Obvious and logical, yes, but ironic, nonetheless.

Eleven chimes rang from the clock. As before, a sharp moment of happiness arrived and then eroded in an instant. Something was still not quite right.

Suddenly, I was called away from my thoughts and back to the driveway as I heard a car door close. While my eyes had not deviated from their watchful post, my mind had, and I missed the arrival of a newcomer whose car had now disappeared from the sightlines of the window. Now it was hope that found strength while hopelessness retreated. There may be only one soldier in its camp, lying dormant for some time, but how quickly it conquers once awakened. Hearing movement by the back door, I instinctively started to make my way through the kitchen, in the direction of the sound. My pulse accelerated in anticipation. How strange that the sound of a mystery-person entering the house would ignite excitement over anxiety. I suppose this is a symptom of a mind dominated by longing.  The door swung open, and standing before me was not Jane, but her brother William. Giving the matter some thought now, he was one of few guests whose unexpected entrance into the home would be welcome but, still, I could not hide my disappointment.

“Hello Charlie, yes it’s just me,” he said. I did not reply. I could not reply. I liked William, but his apparent apathy at this moment bothered me. Sensing my discontent and unwillingness to engage, he then muttered something about leaving his wallet at the house and began to search for it. Still in the kitchen by the backdoor I glanced around, did not see the sought-after item, and found little motivation to search beyond that initial survey. From the living room, I heard William yell “gotcha”, and soon he reappeared with the wallet in hand. He looked at me pityingly, gave a half-smile, then exited the house without another word. I returned to my station in front of the window in time to see his truck pull away. Almost instantly I felt guilty. I was alone again, a state I desired to avoid, yet minutes ago I had treated William so coldly for intruding on my loneliness.  

I noticed two squirrels outside. I watched as they chased one another, up a tree and back down. They continued scribbling their trail around the yard, and their companionship began to conjure feelings of jealousy. Envious of rodents, quite a life! I rested my head on the couch, no longer desiring to keep watch so dutiful as before. My eyelids were heavy, they had been for a little while. For the first time their desire to shield me from the outside world overpowered any remaining desire I had to observe it, and I let them close. Conscious that I was on the verge of sleep, I wondered if my wishes might be answered in the form of a dream. I could not decide whether this would be a welcome taste of relief or only induce more anxiety upon waking.

I heard the first chime, followed by eleven more. Twelve total. As the sound resonated throughout the room, the mysterious ping of happiness returned yet again. I waited for its dissipation, its fleeting farewell, but the feeling of excitement clung to me. I brought my head level with the window and peered out. The blue station wagon slowed as it approached the driveway and then began to turn in. For a moment I remained still, unsure if I would soon be the victim of a pleasant dream. The existence of this thought assured me that I would not be fooled, that this was real. Unable to control my excitement I bounded toward the back door. I jumped up exactly when the door opened and before she could say a word, I gave her face a giant lick.

“Calm down”, she said while laughing and attaching the leash to my collar. “It’s only been 3 hours! You wanna go outside?”. She had returned. I suppose she always does.