Longing
May 18th, 2007 by Michael Max
There are times I miss it. Miss it with an ache.
Longing for the quiet metronome tick of an antique clock that counts out eternity, while drinking tea on Yong Kang street.
I miss those evenings when hours would disappear into tea and conversation. Surrounded by bamboo shadowed walls, charcol fired spring water, and tea from places that have stories. There is nothing I’ve yet found in Seattle that can compare to the old wooden table that has been polished smooth by the careless carress of countless hands. The way strangers became friends, and the way friends became family.
Evenings unfolded differently on Yong Kang street. It is a reminder of the experience of vitality and wellbeing. Of what life is like, when we are not trying to make it something else.
Such is the essence of wellbeing.
What a misfortune for me to live near Yong Kang Street but never have a chance to meet over tea table to become friends?
Now situating 800 miles south of Seattle, and face your craving literally and intenally, would you still consider it as “緣”?