Standing in Line

This is amazing!

How is being in a line amazing?  Measurement is funny and we all do it.  "In this country, you always talk about things in the past based on a year.  We (in England) say "I was x-years old when ..."  Measurement by the moon or by the spoonful we all do it.  There's a spot just yards from my writing tray, a nice renewed for me TV tray that holds a renewed for us laptop.  That spot outside, just yards from this Quonset is being dug up and blocked up for a new tiny space soon to be a bath house.  Separate and small, a shower stall that might in time and opportunity morph into a Japanese style soaking tub will bring us from a pan of wash water to a shower of running, hot water.  Measurements we all do it.  I'm thinking "That will be amazing."

So, back to why is being in a line amazing.  Earlier this week I was in town, standing in a line.  I put my feet in my boots in a line with a bunch of other people aiming at ordering and purchasing something to eat.  While standing, in a public space, with people I saw someone I know.

"Hi,' I said when I saw he was done talking with the woman with things in her hands.
"Oh, hi."  We don't know each other very well, but in this small town when you know someone you become congenial ... friendly.  The man asked how things were going 'out there' familiar as he is with where and somewhat how we live. 
"Great!"  There was time enough to move the conversation into bits of detail while in line.  By the time it was my turn to order I saw that the only goodie I'd like was gone.  Something registered in me, while I experienced what I later described as a wrinkle ... Madeline L'Engle is right about the way time can do that. 

I turned to my neighbor and said, "You go ahead, that raspberry-almond scone is not there."  To my surprise he said, "Well, how about that over on the end, that looks yummy."  "Cinnamon roll.  Hmmm....  no I don't think so." 
"I'd be happy to buy you something." 
"No, thank-you."  Time measured forward.  It was but a few seconds.  I sensed something special had happened there.  I touched the friendly man on the elbow and said, "Nice seeing you," or something like it.  I walked out the door and the feeling somewhere between sadness and awesome tried to describe itself to me.

Later that day I wrote an email to my neighbor thanking him for the genuine kindness of his offer.  I described as best I could the wrinkle that happened when I turned down his offer, and said in some future time, we will be in a line and when he makes that offer again I will say, "Thank you, I'd love one of those raspberry-almond scones."  Being in a line, amazing.

Mokihana C.

Author's Note:  This post originated as a piece of writing done on the on-line creative writing group I conjured up during the months, not long ago, when I was lonely for the rooms and gatherings that were once common-place for me.  I am a writer.  I have loved the company of others, and loved being in the company of other writers.  Life changed, I needed a PLAN BE, but didn't know to call it that. 

I wrote this this weekend, and am thrilled with the fun of being able to spread a story through the many voices of blogging:  I'm absolutely sold on this write-and-publish venue.