Waiting: Advent XVI

My friend got engaged today,
And I went up to the surprise celebration.

Usually when I visit that house, I park in the driveway.
This time, I knew I would have to park along the street.
I am not a confident park-er.

I turned up a side street and pulled over,
Grateful to have found a spot open,
No need to parallel park.

As I walked up the road, a voice called:
“Excuse me! Where are you going?”
“To my friends’ house, around the corner.”
“You can’t park here. Park across the street.”

So I got into the car again, and turned around,
And maneuvered so that I wouldn’t have
Trouble getting out later. Relieved, I got out of the car.

“You can’t park there, either. You need to back way up.”
So I got in the car again, and backed up,
By this point almost in tears,

Because I had no desire to frustrate this woman,
But nor did I have any desire to be badgered
For something that wasn’t actually wrong.

And I suspected that if I had black skin,
I would have been welcome to park anywhere,
And the racial divide in this land makes me sad.

So I cried all the way up the road to the party.
And I cried in the car as I drove away.
And I wait for the restoration of all things.

Even no more possessiveness over street spots.
Even no more broken relationships.
Even no more unnatural terror of parallel parking.

Some days the waiting hangs heavier than others.