1.28.13 There are people

There are the people we see all the time. At our home, or post office or store or library.

There are the people we notice leaving their houses or waving hi,  at jobs or when we vote or clear our driveway or bring out the trash.

Whose upstairs light we may notice on at 3 am while we go to the bathroom, maybe for a few weeks, and then its dark again, and they are sleeping better. Who knows.

There is the person at the book store who crankily takes our purchase til one day they let loose a wry comment and we look up into their eyes and they open themselves a crack and there they were, all along. Magic. We share a very small quiet smile, and from then on, we have that each time, the small quiet smile, between us.

We have the neighbor who locates us at the grocery store,  their hat askew, their gaze a bit frantic, their breath a bit shallow. They begin racing into a somewhat errant dislocated story about something, we are not certain what, but there is a purpose, and why not stand and watch and accompany them in case there is a delivery of their self to a yearned for destination, as they do seem in need of landing.

And sure enough, after a few minutes, they land with some relief, you waving the lit cones to lead them into the safe spot, where they sputter, the urgent words coming to a standstill, as they wake, somewhat surprised at you standing there, you the conductor who ushered them to their standing-room-only spot..to settle themselves somehow, not certain how they got there, but now as  they turn from you, all is  forgotten. 

And you shrug, turn away , to do your errand and weave into your self the interaction, into the finely threaded, shining multicolored person you grow, one more moment in your tapestry of self, one more turn back to that which you were on your way to being.