there was a woman crying in starbucks this morning, and I could have sat down and written a whole book about it. from what she was saying to the man there with her, she didn't know what to do, and couldn't do something anymore. I don't know what the something was. my snap judgement of the situation, with her manicure and gas-guzzling suv and big diamond earrings and golden retriever kind of thing going on, would be that she was hiding underneath her stuff. people do that a lot. I used to do that a lot.
or maybe someone is dying or something, in which case I'd feel like a giant piece of shit for judging her. either way, I had this moment, of how starbucks - all of them - is a place we pass through regardless of what our lives are doing at the moment. on our way to and fro and we're breaking down and we stop for coffee. we meet up to love and wonder and confront and work, all inside these pumpkin colored walls, our feet on the same tile floors. she was crying in starbucks. I've cried in starbucks.
like I said, I could write a whole book about it.
on top of that there was a carcass on the side of the road, which is not unusual for I95, but today it looked like a dirty old stuffed animal that someone loved once, and wound up tossing aside, almost against their will. it's been rainy and grey out and - I don't know. I guess I could have written a book about that moment too.
I'm super sensitive and hyper aware. I've got blisters and jello legs and one of the things I need to be / not be doing is working / not not working while I'm at work. so I guess I should go.