waiting

I’m sitting in my college dorm window. It’s an old building, first inhabited in 1913, and there is just room enough to sit on the sill and look out onto the commons. The partial quote from Godot “…birth astride a grave” is hammering away at me because I’m sitting here waiting for something to occur instead of doing anything and I must have student-things that need doing at the very least. But I wait. I look out the window at a lifeless campus. I waste precious time and I worry that my future self might one day condemn me for all this waiting.

That was decades ago. And the memory of this is burnished into my brain as if there’s a sheet of copper in there with an image of me in the window—all pensive like.

 I am now that future self and I do condemn young me.