December 6th, 2013
I'm always amazed when I get the chance to go to a high hill, the top of a tall tall building, or any sort of elevated plain that lets me see some sort of view. I imagine all the people in all the little spaces crammed into these plots of land. I try to think about some things that might be happening in those spaces, a grandpa making breakfast for his granddaughter, she doesn't like plain round pancakes so he has come up with a way to make pancake drawings, the most creative pancakes anyone has ever seen, just for her. I think about the great dane nudging her owner for an afternoon walk, possibly the only walk of the day and she is excited running back and forth in the bedroom while he just wants to sleep a few more minutes. I imagine the young couple keeping warm under wool sheets as a television is blaring, whispers of "I love yous" and "wheres the remote boo?"
Whenever I'm at a towering view I also think about the relationships of these people in these small spaces. I think about what it might be like to be in love with the boy down the street, or what it might feel like to have to see your ex-wife every time you drop off your kid to them, or the feeling in your arms and legs when you pass by the girl at the coffee shop that you always tell yourself you will say hi this time but you never do. I think about these relationships and I'm reminded that I carry my own set of hellos, goodbyes, and see-you-soons.
On this day I think about one in particular and I will believe that they are where they wanted to be for a very long time now, and I am where I need to be, but I could be terribly wrong.
What a scary thought, that in our lifetimes, we fall in and out of these "hellos", "won't you stay awhile", "lets spend a day together" to a goodbye that was never said out loud. And so do I continue to spend time to get to know new people when this cloud hangs over me that whispers and shouts pep talks about how it won't last and you might not remember this person in a year? I don't think so, and that's when the rush of memories come in, the time I spent getting to know her, making her smile and laugh and being able to learn new things about a life that I was never familiar with, and in the end, learning about myself. And knowing that those days spent building a relationship even if it's gone, it was special and still is and that won't ever fade.
So the terribly wrong doesn't seem so wrong and the believing turns into a reality of this is where I am, period. And it's okay.
In this past year I've realized something really simple, yet it took me almost twenty five years of living to be able to recognize it. I experience so much joy when I'm able to share this life with others. It has ranged from spending an entire day with my best friend, or the quick "hello, how are you?" of a stranger passing by, to the mutual smile shared on a cold bus sputtering through downtown Los Angeles. This joy creeping up through my spine into my eyes to remind me that this little life of mine is much smaller than I think when it's compared to the billions of other little lives breathing in this little, little planet of ours, crammed in these small spaces, screaming at the bus driver, "have a great night, thank you for the ride!"
