The geese fly in a long line across the sunny spring sky. In a city where the grey is pervasive and constant, a suggested city for vampires to live in due to our plethora of dark and gloomy days.
I sometimes find myself connecting more to service providers than I do to the people that I call friends. I get along better with my weight coach than I do with my co workers. Get along better with my hair dresser than I do with my friends, see her more too. I like my massage therapist so much I want to invite her to parties that I plan but never have. Who would want to come to my stupid “tea” anyway? I don’t even have enough tea cups.
Why can I talk to these women, but not my friends? What is the difference? There is certainly a connection, a weekly or monthly visit for an hour or so. When I have just openly admitted I would rather be reading. Or playing my game.
Last night I danced with the baby, while we all played percussion instruments. I was laughing and playing and singing like a crazy woman. But I felt happier in that moment than I had all day. I said to the big guy, “Its like this is real life and the rest is just pretending.”