A Car Door Slams

I’m sitting inside my mom’s house, and for some reason, every time I hear a car door slam outside I expect it to bring someone I have been waiting for. But the weird thing is I’m not waiting for anyone tonight- no one has made plans to visit me.

This confuses me.

Maybe it’s because I miss my brother Michael. He’s been in Michigan for the past 2 weeks, and I can’t wait for him to come home so we can watch youtube videos and laugh with Nathan; so I can roll my eyes at his puns and scold him for terrorizing Nathan and the cat. He’s a great friend of mine, and maybe my heart wants him to drive up, slam the car door and be home.

My next thought is maybe it is a gentleman suitor of mine. This is a distinct impossibility. And actually, I am not necessarily mutually admiring of this suitor. He gives me the feeling that he is looking for a person to fill a role, not necessarily me, but why not me? But maybe he is the sign of something else: of possibility and hope and love. And so maybe my heart wishes it was him, driving up to surprise me and just have a little time talking on the lawn.

My last thought- no, longing- is that it’s my dad. This is indeed impossible. He has been gone for 12 summers, and there is no way that he will pull into our driveway this evening, closing his car door and opening our door to greet us after his day. But I wish he could. I wish that he would just stop by and have a piece of pizza with us, listen with furrowed brow, and say, “Well Anna…” followed by some kind of wise advice. It wouldn’t even matter if it was hard to hear. I just need a little advice.

So with every approaching neighbor I feel my deep needs for companionship, love and insight. I feel so lost right now. And a lost heart looks for meaning even in the slam of a car door.