Anticipation
Only 1.5 hours, 90 minutes,
5400 long seconds
left to go....
If I make it out of this traffic jam!
Idiot drivers, don't they know
I have a house to clean, food to cook,
candles, wine, music to prepare?
Today I was grateful for my office walls,
my sighs and sudden blushes hidden.
Tonight there will be no walls.
Tonight....
Home at last, I bound
up the stairs to the kitchen,
focus on the beef, rice, mushrooms,
even as I keep seeing her face.
Her face....
A car door slams,
is she here already?
Ah, just the neighbors across the street,
must remember to pull the shades....
My hand trembles slightly
as I measure the olive oil,
as I remember our conversations.
Medium high heat....
I watch the quick seconds tick slowly by.
The sounds of boiling, bubbling, simmering,
become her whispers in my ear.
Whispers....
The phone rings and I leap,
pick up before the second ring,
dread another delay.
But it's not her voice,
just a seller of insurance,
who won't insure my evening.
I hang up and return to my busy waiting.
Waiting....
Hands chop vegetables and shred greens.
Mind remembers the first time,
the last time I saw her,
long ago and only yesterday....
Glancing out the window yet again,
I open a bottle of wine to breathe,
take a deep breath myself,
wipe the perspiration from my hands.
Candles and fresh flowers on the table,
Loreena McKennitt sings softly on the stereo,
but it's her voice I want to hear….
I pace from the kitchen into the dining room,
then through the living room,
stop at the stairs,
have I forgotten anything?
Did she get lost?
Caught in traffic?
She's not really late,
but I worry anyway,
and I want her here now,
want her now....
Forcing myself to relax,
my mind jumps ahead again,
together, after dinner....
Oh! The doorbell!