Sitting at a light, focused on my many-fold weekend plans.
Suddenly, a flash of white, corner of my eye, distraction.
I glance over to see a handkerchief, a hand, an obscured face.
A dark haired old biddy with a large and hirsute husband at the wheel.
He's staring off into space and focused on his next turn.
I wonder at her napkin for a half-second, "Is her make-up running?"
And then it ploughs into the heart of me, she's sobbing.
Jaw quivering, glassy-eyed, staring into the distance and clearly just...broken.
And I can't handle it.
I don't know if it's the fact that I have zero context for her sadness or that I can do absolutely nothing to help her.
I can't fall back on those old pablum sayings or a pat on the back.
And I know, if I tried to get her attention and let her know she's not alone, it would just make it worse for her.
So, I'm sitting there, 3 feet away from somebody's grandma, watching her cry and desperately trying to fight my own tears and just feeling....EVERYTHING.
"War is a forge that gives us meaning."
Make your choice.
- (no subject)