My biggest concerns today were nothing like yours.
I got teary, had regrets, sighed deeply, was judgmental, misunderstood, dismissed someone, took a deep breath.
You might have done some of those too, but for very different reasons.
My concerns are mine.
They’re not Leanna’s, Lynne’s or Lou Ann’s. They’re not Samia’s, Sahle-Work’s, Jacinda’s, Fiamē’s or Angela’s.
There’s very limited postal service from the U.S. to New Zealand. Two friends have had packages refused at the US Post Office when they attempted to send them to me.
NZ banks have not allowed foreign currency check deposits since mid-August.
Kazakstan seems very far from New Zealand.
There are mealy bugs on my jasmine, scale on my ceanothus and my monstera is shooting out aerial roots.
My tax bill came, as did the internet, credit card and insurance bills.
But none of these are of great concern to you because you have your own concerns, the things you think about when your attention isn’t being grabbed by something else.
The stent is in, the meds are working, the new car seems ok, exams are over, that deadline met, the position filled.
So, we pass each other by, whether in the flesh or online, and we try to understand each other without appreciating that the line in the script of our own story is barely recognizable to those holding a different script.
It’s okey to be sad. They’ve left a massive hole in your heart.
It’s okey to be glad. Celebrate each little win or blessing.
It’s okey to be numb. Between is a place.
It’s okey at be something else. Make it up as you go. It’s called improvising and only the best get to do that.
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