Yesterday i spent the day waiting for things to happen – a phone call, a meeting, at an appointment, on the bus, and in the end on a friend, who never showed. Waiting in Dublin isn’t uncommon – after all we are a land of queuing – but yesterday my waiting just wasn’t really rewarded.
As I sat in the cafe, waiting for my friend to show, I sipped a double espresso and watched strangers arrive in groups of twos and threes, one eye on my book one one the door I couldn’t help but feel hopeful every-time the door pinged open. After a few chapters my cup was empty and I decided it was time to go. I swung my bag over my shoulder and began the walk home.
Currently Dublin is one big building site, the roads are waiting for the Luas to be finally finished, empty plots lie in wait for workmen to build houses on them, old building hold up signs of notification waiting for renovations to begin. It feels as if the whole city is waiting on the brink of some sort of new beginning.
So while I walked through a waiting Dublin I couldn’t help but smile and think how well I fit in.