The woman at the bar sidled up to me, a gentle smile tugging at her lips and eyes. Are you okay? she asked. I gulped back the newly risen sob and pushed the tears about to escape my bulging eyes. That depends on what you mean by okay, I replied, and sniffles back the mucus dribbling from my nose. The woman paused, her compassion wobbling into puzzlement. There are different kinds of okay? I tried on a big grin, hoping to ease her into my next words. She took a step back, as if shed just walked into an insane persons mind. I reigned in my smile, and spoke solemnly. There are many kinds of okay. If, for instance, you mean am I free of pain and suffering, then no, I cannot claim to own that okay. I doubt I ever will. Or if you mean by okay that you wonder if I need assistance, then yes, I am okay. Or if you mean that you have seen my tears and worry something is terribly wrong, then yes again, I am okay. I am very comfortable with my tears. But if you mean, by asking if Im okay, that you wonder if I am in need of compassion, then I would say that I carry a great burden with me wherever I go, and compassion is one of the few things that makes the burden more bearable for a while.
Posted on: Sun, 28 Sep 2014 01:34:35 +0000
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