I’m standing near a gate at the end of a driveway, halter and lead rope in hand, heart thumping. I look down the gravel road towards the bend. Waiting. Waiting. Fifteen minutes ago my phone rang and the driver said he was 35 minutes away. So why am I standing here looking expectantly down the road when he is still 20 minutes away? Twenty minutes, that is, if he was being truthful and had calculated correctly and hasn’t been held up by anything. I look longingly down the road but I’m too early.
An arrival and a beginning
An arrival and a beginning
An arrival and a beginning
I’m standing near a gate at the end of a driveway, halter and lead rope in hand, heart thumping. I look down the gravel road towards the bend. Waiting. Waiting. Fifteen minutes ago my phone rang and the driver said he was 35 minutes away. So why am I standing here looking expectantly down the road when he is still 20 minutes away? Twenty minutes, that is, if he was being truthful and had calculated correctly and hasn’t been held up by anything. I look longingly down the road but I’m too early.