In The Waiting Line


What a distinct familiar feeling.
Getting in at 2, waking up in the afternoon, leaving a house I don’t recognize because I’ve only seen it briefly at night.  My body is weak, my clothes hang loose, my hair smells a bit of cigarettes. It’s just cold enough outside and everything is red and orange.

Last night was the first time I did some real playing since I arrived.
Musicians are musicians wherever you are. Real Books are Real Books. Softly as in a Morning Sunrise is Softly as in a Morning Sunrise.
That’s the beauty.

How I’m going to get back there again on a Wednesday night? I don’t know.
Am I going to be moved to Mons? I don’t know.
Am I going to have to go to Miami for a week? I don’t know

It’s all about “if”. It’s all about waiting.

Waiting for things to change. Waiting for things to resolve. Waiting to be with you. Waiting to wake up in New York City. Waiting for inspiration. Waiting for my Belgian ID card. Waiting for that shipment of ukuleles to come in.

It’s Autumn.


4 responses to “In The Waiting Line

  1. Good things are always worth waiting for.

  2. Glad you are playing again.

  3. neighborlady


  4. Aunt Nancy

    Kassie, your writing is so inspirational and entertaining…you really should consider it a part of your avocation. Anyway. your parents are keeping us up on your experience…or maybe lack of it, at your present setting. i hope things change for the better very, very soon. you are so precious and such a good sport. keep you chin up, as they say, and surely things will head in a better direction soon.

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