Waiting

I made it back down to the Gazebo after so many weekends of too hot, too rainy, too many mosquitoes, and/or too many other things to do.  Two major events punctuated the summer at it's beginning, representing life at its happiest and saddest--Dan and Sheri's wedding and the death of our niece Debbie.  I have spent the rest of the summer in a holding pattern, waiting to sell the condo (still waiting), waiting for Tom to be ready to move forward on the reconstruction of our house, waiting to see if I got either of the jobs I applied for (no), waiting to see what job I would get, and waiting to see what Tom would do with his business.  Perhaps out of subconscious rebellion, I decided to go ahead and have a physical exam, something I've put off for years.  I've gotten pictures framed knowing I can only hang them in vacant spots at my mother's house in Annandale rather than arranging them so they enhance a room.  If I tried to do that in Annapolis, I'd only have to take them down again when construction starts.

So I have neglected the Gazebo, not that it seems to have cared, because it stands as simple and elegant as ever, but around it are weeds of the variety that grow by the sea, which I can rationalize as providing it more privacy.  Winter will take its toll on them and make the honey suckle growing in the big shrub easier to cut out with a few well-placed whacks at the lowest part of the vine.  As valid as these rationalizations are, they can't erase the thought that one day, it will not be this way.  One day we'll move forward on our house plans.  One day I won't have to wait until the Superpowers at work decide which spot to fit me in, as if I were a group of Arabs whom the victors of World War I decided needed a system of government created for them.  One day I won't have to wait until the weekend to sit in the Gazebo.