Connection

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.”

 

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