I keep watching for it. In the distance.

I know I won't see it, not anytime soon. You have to be patient.

But you have to watch too.

The people around me think I'm rude. They think I should be looking at them. Or at least look closer. Closer to where we are.

“What do you think is out there, anyway? What is it you're expecting to see?”

“I can't explain,” I say. “I can't watch and explain at the same time.”

“Can't you just stop for a minute?” they ask, “And explain?”

“I could,” I say, my eyes still locked on the distance. “I could, but then I might miss it.”

“Miss WHAT?” one of them practically shouts. Because some do get annoyed. Even though it has nothing to do with them.

“I'm sorry,” I say, “I can't talk anymore. I have to watch.”

Then they really get annoyed.

Can't do much about that, though, can I? I have to watch.

I have to watch, because I know: one day it will be there.

One day, it will come.