smalltalks

It’s been a long time since she’s been here.

As the revolving door ushers her out, she braces herself for the gust of wind. She is pleasantly surprised that the night air is perfect. Lately, the atmosphere and weather have been promising of a new season. Spring is almost here.

She quickens her pace and then catches herself. These days, it’s been a lot about rushing from one place to the next. There are people to meet, places to be, deadlines and schedules that have to be followed. But tonight, for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t feel the need to hurry. There is nowhere she needs to be. She drinks it in, every little bit.

The jacket she is wearing fits snug around her--a little bit too snug. It’s a size too small, but in her haste out the door, she had found the coat thrust into her arms. Strangely enough, it is a small symbolic gesture of a mother's love--sometimes a little suffocating, but always providing just enough warmth. 

A jogger runs briskly past her and she watches him huff and puff away. On another day, she'd run the same route, but tonight she'd rather meander. The smell of cigarettes linger in the air and she holds her breath as she walks by the smoker under the awning. The dull glow of his cigarette butt flickers in the night air. She joins the small gathering of people hurrying off to their own destinations. Some are still dressed in suits. Others walk slowly in the form of lovers or mothers pushing their babies in their strollers. 

Presently, she slips into the coffee shop. There are more people there than expected. Never mind that, she steps in line, order in mind.

Chai tea latte. Medium.

She pays with the card she had found on her desk earlier that day. She had checked online prior to leaving the apartment and there were still twenty dollars left. She can't recall who had given the gift card to her, but she’ll take it. Money is tight these days in the house. She grimaces at the thought of deadlines and responsibilities looming over her head. There’s tuition to pay for, internships to consider, and future worries that weigh her down. School starts again tomorrow and soon she'll find herself slipping back into the shoes she doesn't feel like addressing at the moment. She just wants the night to herself for once. But even alone, the thoughts still hover over her like a rain cloud. She has questions she's been asking. Mostly addressed to Him, but lately it seemed as if she were speaking to a wall. 

No one has the answers anymore. Well-intentioned voices suggest hesitantly what she ought to do but from the One she so desperately wants to hear from, there is nothing. Not a sign nor a word. It's been months now. 

Someone’s calling her name. She looks up in a daze. The barista hands her the steaming cup of foam.

Hot drink in hand, she tucks the troublesome thoughts into the back of her mind, and hurries out the door. There is some party going on at the little restaurant situated by the riverfront. Somewhere across the water, Taylor Swift croons about exes and lovers from a muffled speaker. 

The music fades into the distance as she rounds the bend. She plops down on the nearest bench in silence and stares at the dark formless waves lapping at the rocks below. The city glows in the distance with its twinkling lights. The taste of chai is on her lips—it burns, reminding her to take it slow.

 It’s been a long time since she’s been here.

Most people spend their lives looking backwards. Not necessarily in a bad way, but just in a reflective sort of way. They tend to look back and say, “Wow, those were good times” without realizing at the time, that they were, indeed, good times. 

Tonight, she realized as she sat surrounded by the soft waves and the brisk night, that the chapter of life she found herself in was coming to a close and suddenly, she couldn’t bear the thought of it. Even with all the tears shed, she felt a little ache knowing it was coming to a close soon. Each little dip and bump in the road had made its mark on the page, but it was time to keep going. 

She furrowed her brow as an energetic couple wearing matching sweats ran by. While it was exciting, it also terrified her. This was the part when the engaged reader immersed deep into some novel started getting anxious because how could the chapter be ending already when so many things still lay unresolved? There was an itch to flip ahead and see how each knot would untangle itself, how things would work out, and how questions would be answered. No doubt, the Author was still at work. But how would He finish?

She blinked and remembered the last time she had sat in the exact same spot staring at the same waves and cityscape. Everything had been so different then. And she wondered why now, why her and why him, but it was no longer her place to ask anymore. 

Even now, she is reminded of a million little things that her heart screams unfairness for. All the words exchanged and the rollercoaster of emotions playback in her mind. The desire to be heard has only beckoned her to wait in silence and be still. It still stings, but the blow is ever softening. A new season approaches. 

The verse she had read in Psalm 27 that morning jumps to mind. For the longest time, she had always read it as "wait on the Lord" but no, there it was in black ink: Wait for the Lord.

Waiting for Him... to do something. But what? She has wondered the same question over and over again. But for the first time, she begins to understand it. He has been doing something. The trek across the dry desert wasteland seems to be coming to a close. All this chiseling away was ushering and pointing to something new and in the waiting, in the stillness of it all, it suddenly dawned on her that the new...was her.

A season of joy is coming soon. Her heart beats a little faster, grasping at this new knowledge. She casts one final look at the tall silhouettes of the skyscrapers across the Hudson, takes the last sip of her now-cold latte, then heads homeward.