It’s the beginning of Labor Day Weekend. The city has emptied leaving vast spaces of ease and silence.
New York is so vital that when it shifts, so do you.
I don’t mind being left behind, actually a preference since the peace in the city’s last seasonal retreat, restores and strengthens.
So what’s my problem.
I feel punched in the belly over a number of things. Had a last minute job where a woman I know pretty well, a hair above me in hierarchy, treated me like a leper, treatment I’m still reeling from 48 hours later.
Someone I have such tenderness for also has turned his cheek.
What you need to acknowledge is…why you’re so affected by the actions of others you have no control over.
They hit a wound, that’s why, and one they can’t be held responsible for.
They’re the catalyst, not the cause.
Yet they feel as if they are, slamming into that hurtful place of pain and despair.
Have you ever fallen onto an already scraped knee? It’s like that. Your skin was already broken, yet it feels fresh…pierced though its center oozing old feelings you’ve yet to deal with.
Alas, where am I going with this?
Will crawl under the covers, my ceiling fan overhead, whirling wisdom as it reminds me these unexpected visitations mean little.
You just need to let them pass like uninvited guests who will soon take flight.
Search for the light lurking quietly. It’s there, hidden behind the cobwebs and dust bunnies beneath the bed.
I’m pretty certain of this.