Hope Becomes All
Hello again. Life is a precious thing. It’s been said, by some, life is a gift. Considering how my “life” has been, I wonder each and every day where the idea of “gift” got lost in translation. For those who feel that one “gift” is more or less than another, I do not agree. How many people out there have an awareness that right now, there is likely a female being buried up to her neck in the dirt and her own sons are preparing to hurl rocks at her, along with a line of others, until she slowly dies? How many people out there have an awareness that at least one person on Earth is being kept in a cage all day and has never seen a tree?
The reasons I type the things I type in this blog may appear merely scattered reflections upon first glance, but there is more to it than that. Since I have a deep appreciation for a good sense of humor, and have found through my own experince and that of many others, that laughter and levity can often cure what ails, I can be rip-roarin’ silly sometimes. As for extremes, by my own admission, I do have a ”humongus beeg” (right Bryz ’O Many Faces?) galaxy of moods (and facial expressions I’ve been told by more than just a few). An odd elderly man at the library started conversing with me yesterday. During our discourse, midway through a sentence I had not yet completed, he (the elderly conversationalist) blurts out, “Is that you Mary?”
This man glared at me as though I was a fresh, sizzling piece of bacon ready to be slapped on a pot of gold and handed directly to him. He then repeated, “Mary, is that you in there?” Before I could postulate how to answer, given some immediate surprised-based hesitation, he moved slightly closer, peered into my eyes and began smiling so brightly, it seemed to even change the color of his skin slightly. This man appeared to “literally” light up to me. Then, out of sheer apparent joy, water started collecting on his lower eyelids. Somehow, my face elicited actual tears of elation out of a person I’ve not any memory of ever meeting previously.
At that point, I felt almost wrong in thinking I should break his happiness as it was by saying, “I’m not who you believe I am.” In this case, I didn’t. I couldn’t in fact. The change in everything having to do with his personage was so dramatic from the start of our conversation to the moment he lit up with pure hope that I was his “Mary”, that my guard was down, hence leaving me almost “feeling” his joy myself. How could I burst THAT bubble? He continued smiling with a shine of skin I’ve no actual words available in my repertoire to describe rightly, so in his fixated trance, I simply said, “You look different.”
What I replied was not untrue. He did look different from only moments before. What I said, just “felt” exactly the right thing to say at the time. I did not deny or confirm my “Maryness”, or lack of thereof, but did I need to? It’s possible this man lost a “Mary” along the way in his life. It’s possible this man has some neurological situation that translated my face into “Mary” in his brain. I doubt I’ll ever know, but I am now highly curious as to what you think?
Do you think I did the right thing? After telling him, “you look different,” I then said, “I can’t stay. It’s time for me to go.” Again, that just came out and it seemed exactly right to me. And again, it was not untrue. I (as in the me I know) did really have to “go”. I couldn’t stay for much longer, because nature was calling me to the bathroom rather loudly by then. Yet, he took as though I was his long, lost “Mary” telling him something he’d been waiting a very long time to hear. He dropped several tears, started walking toward the door and said, “I finally get to say goodbye.”
Does this sort of thing happen to you? What would you do? Talk to me.
For some reason, today, everything in my life is focused totally on one hope. The hope of love has become all.
It’s interesting and worthy of note that I always type my post titles first and then type my post. This is the case today, however the post I planned to share became what you have just read as if it were meant to happen. I let it happen as it did.
One last thing: for a reason I’m not sure about at all, I feel it necessary to type this “like a fine Italian sports car.” Don’t ask me, I just type here.
Maybe I’m lonely? Hmmm
Peace – mia- firstname.lastname@example.org @creasesinger
Get your musical hockey on!