I am not the kind of person to sit on someone else’s toilet wondering, “When will I be resilient, and what is a socially acceptable amount of time to spend in here?”.
Sometimes a social event can be tricky, and you didn’t know you weren’t up for it. I don’t know the other guest Sandra very well. Her style of communication is reminiscent of a power point presentation, now regurgitated as content. She often mentions close affiliations with highly prestigious people, her much-in-demand schedule.
Alongside her intention to slow her busy life down and take on less work.
Which she has no intention of doing.
Chronically cheerful are technically supposed to be uplifting and who knows why they might leave my brain bruised and confused.
I am okay with my gender assignment, but not always confident that I hit the right species.
One can nod with interest, even empathy.
Despite all this wisdom, it can be hard to find home.
Lonely in a crowd etches your insides.
I can ease over to awkward people, who don’t talk about productivity and forgot to look in the mirror. Penelope’s lightly battered outfits might have been on the floor this morning. Even all of last week.
She can share a moment of humility, a venture gone awry, the tearful heartache of an unhappy family holiday.
Penelope nudges my early exit, giving me a lift home in her van.
Stepping outside the air is fresh. A familiar porch, and a dog-eared book might be a welcome salve, safe harbour after a storm.
Crumb-covered child seats; dented Kleenex boxes and well-sat-on mail. On the passenger seat I pick up a round black plastic item that has a screw bottom and could be part of a critical piece of camping equipment. A knotted and flattened sticky plastic bag on the floor under my feet might be garbage given the brown dried apple core on top.
But maybe there is something important in there, like the parent teacher interview slip I once found frozen to our driveway.
Who knows how it got this way. Life is crunchy.
Peace may be found in unlikely locations.