It was how she said “Thank You.”  She said, “Yea, I’m really excited,” the other woman replied, “I’m really excited for you,” and then she uttered that “Thank You.”

She was grateful.  Her entire body was grateful.  Her voice was a petite expression for how grateful she was for every moment within every moment in her life right at that moment.

She said it and it reminded him of his ex, the way she was too young to just be herself, her off-centered societaly-crazy self.  And so vulnerable to the love of others that, if she had said that very same Thank You, her eyes would have quiver as well having never expected anything for her life in terms of love and gifts…

I have been sealed symmetrically perfect in a freshly poured cement wall between the normal and the freak…me being a complete crazy yet judging so much that I insist on being normal.

The woman leaving is the person who sits at a middle table with too many bags and carts.  She is not the homeless one, but the person who is mentally different, talks, laughs, sings…if you can catch a glance and get in her eyes, you’ll see teal ponds in rich fields of thousand-color flowers, you’ll notice she sees neither the building she is in nor anything around her, that she’s playing with her friends in her secret cerebral fairytale…

 

 

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(written with pen on paper)