i was playing at the park with v today. i got sand down my shirt. i got a hot dog. hung out with a whole bunch of preschool parents and their kids. for a minute anyway, i could look away from my own problems to the more immediate need to police a tiny horde going down the slide over and over.
i have been so sad over the last two months that it’s easier to draw in, to keep looking in and down and down until all i see is myself. i was at the park with dozens of people that i should have known but didn’t. my own sorrow has kept me buried so far in the sand that i haven’t looked up and seen the people around me.
it makes me wonder at the private grief hiding behind every face. makes me wonder what we are all hiding or pushing down out of the way so we won’t cry, won’t fall apart.
it makes me wonder about empathy. i wish that i could have a rendezvous with true compassion, with someone who really does know and has known all that i have traveled through the last ten months or so.
i wish i was less afraid of strangers, that i could more readily share stories with people i barely know.
in the end, all this wishing is like sand in my shirt. i end up uncomfortable—wanting to be someone i’m not.