Parking has never been easy on the Plaza in Kansas City. I pulled the rental car into a space across from Jenny Rosen’s apartment and thought, At least my parking karma still holds. Then I saw the flash of Jenny’s wide lovely smile and we were laughing, talking about dinner, and moving away from the curb again towards 39th street. Just like that: I’m back.
A few hours later, Jenny made chamomile tea and put a little box of delicate chocolates in front of me. The sound of traffic subsided as the weekday evening ended. Jenny’s jade garden oozed serenity from the shelves and window sills. We chattered without stopping, despite the months that I’ve been in California, despite the changes in our lives. Our relate flows like an endless river, an infinite stretch of stars into which I find myself gazing with a mild wonder.
In Jenny Rosen’s dining room, with the quiet of morning around me, I have no complaint. My jobless state notwithstanding; the bruise on my hip from an embarrassing fall in the restaurant aside; life seems possible. Even likely. Doable; even golden. I’m not sure where I’m going, but this is where I’ve been. I’ve had some happy times in Kansas City. I can find a bit of comfort here.
It’s the tenth day of the fifty-third month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.