There was drinking, certainly. And conversation, absolutely. I got the crap flattered out of me by a girl who wasn't completely drunk off her ass. I got to see my sister, Dina, smile for the first time in two weeks. I got to see HatGirl and NotHideousGirl at the same time in the same place. I got to see a dog wearing sunglasses. MusicalHippieDudeMusicalYuppieDude and I split a bottle of yummy Malheur 10 (41). I learned something bad about myself, and I began to suspect something bad about a friend.

I don't want to say that none of that stuff mattered to me. Because it all mattered. But I don't think that any of it mattered as much as it could have. Or, perhaps, should have.

Because through it all, I was waiting. Not anticipating. Certainly not dreading. Simply waiting. Because waiting is the context of my life now. And, not coincidentally, it's also the title of this entry.

On Sunday I spend almost the entire day in my detached garage, working on my dad's old Monte Carlo. When, at 7:00, it finally roared to life, well that was one of the most welcome sounds I've heard in a long time. I let it run for a half-hour or so. I watched the white smoke fade to gray and finally to nothingness. I listened to the motor transition from a very rough idle to a smooth, albeit loud, purr. I watched coolant drip from a small hole in the lower radiator hose and form a spreading green puddle on my driveway.

I did those things and more but, mostly, I waited. After I put the Monte Carlo back in the garage, I took a shower, and I waited. I went to the store to buy cigarettes and Diet Vanilla Cokes, and I waited. I bought dinner at McDonald's, and I waited.

For almost the last three years, I mourned. And that was the context behind everything in my life, every word of every entry in this journal. Behind every word I said and every thought I had and every action I undertook, I mourned.

Now, I don't do that anymore. Instead, I wait.

This is better, I think. Definitely easier.

I think I could wait forever. Sometimes I think that it might be best if I did wait forever.

Because, I know that if the waiting ever ends, then the real work begins.

Context doesn't add background to a life. Context defines a life.