TheBanyanTree: I'm out of sync

[NancyIee at aol.com]

We're having an event, large enough to warrant the renting of a hall and 
caterers. It was all set, right down to the trays and  drinks for the buffet, the 
D.J., and the seating.

Then a  rumor.  A friend who  belongs to a business guild calls and says 
their meeting at that hall had been canceled. 
"They're closed," he announced.
I knew they were closing down, demolishing the building in 2006 to make  way 
for condos. That's what we need, another condo complex. But, no matter, OUR 
event will go on all right.

Another friend called. He had read it in a  tiny article in the  business 
section of the morning paper. The place is closed.  All sheduled events have to 
go elsewhere. I call the manager of the hall.  
"Not to worry," he said in his unsure tone. 

 . . .but all that is not the  point of  my posting. Only the catalyst, I 
believe.

Two  a.m., my housemate becomes ill. She  tests, eats a candy bar  and  
drinks some orange juice and complains. I perk up. She pops a nitro. We wait.

After a minute that seems like a day and a half, I call, summon the  sirens, 
and away she goes.

I put the dogs in,lock up. I follow.

I didn't know my aged van could still run with the big boys, pass the big 
boys, smoke the  freeway. Old race horse shaking off the wagon and winning the 
crown. I beat the ambulance.

I wait.

She wheels in.

I wait.

I wait.

  I half see the small  vignettes played out in this place. The whine of the 
floor polisher irritates me. Nurses at the station are chatting in secret 
tones.

I wait.

It isn't the first waiting.

I hope it isn't the last.