Strangers

The church bells are chiming, calling everyone to Mass. I'm skipping today, a fact that will add to my guilt tomorrow. But, for now, I'm trying to relearn just living in the moment and getting back that free-spirited, not anal person I was ten years ago.

Last Tuesday, I was having a crap day. Honestly, last week I walked around in the 9th circle of hell, with a solitary ray of sunshine. Four simple words from a few people gave me the only smile, "Things will get better." And, they will and are.

But, on Tuesday, I didn't want to cook. I didn't want to do anything once I got home but free the girls from my bra, save my feet from my heels, and stare off into space with a glass of Pinot. If I learned anything from the past week, its this: heels are torture to which I will no longer subject myself, no matter how awesome they make my calves look or how much longer they make the legs appear. Too bad Chico river shoes don't POP with slacks.

Anyway, I bought Chinese, and not because I necessarily care for it, but because I needed a damn fortune cookie. I love 'em and hang onto them until they come true, and when they do, I tape them in various places to remind me. I have a pile of them in wallet, waiting.

I ate too many deep fried crab thingies, didn't touch the rice, and gagged down some moo goo gai pan (what, exactly, is that sauce on Chinese food?!). All I had was cheap chardonnay, but what the hell. I wasn't about to hit the wine store. I didn't want to see people laughing and joking, or crying about a bad day at work. I didn't want to make a decision on which bottle to buy or have the too kind drummer, who knows too much about my past, recommend a bottle. I didn't want to swim anymore. Treading water sounded like a chore, and I was ready to sink--into a too hot tub of water filled with lavender bubbles.

My fortune, at the time, was a little bit of a let-down: "A chance meeting with a stranger will change your life." Humph. Nice to know, and I stuck it in the back of my wallet and retreated to my tub.

Wednesday, after the stress had peaked, I bellied up with a shot of Turkey and a Guinness, trying to be alone. A tall red-head came and sat right beside me; I had to move my purse and was more than a little irritated, thinking, "The whole damn bar is open; I'm not in the mood to chat." I had a shitty attitude, and didn't necessarily want it to change.

I downed my shot, about gagged, and pretended to text, still feeling the burn. She put a few bucks in the game at the end of the bar and lit a cigarette. I turned my glass, to make sure I kept the head on the Guinness the same all the way around, in that stupid neurotic way I have. She said, "You look really familiar," and asked my name.

"I get that a lot," and I told her. She told me I looked like Kelly McGillis. I laughed, bought another beer, and was irritated she was putting ice in her wine. One of my biggest pet peeves. "When I was young and thin, I used to get Kim Catrall," I chuckled. "Thanks."

"Sucks getting old, doesn't it?" She said.

She asked where I was from and what my maiden was. When I told her, her jaw hit the floor and her lips pursed. She got really quiet, so I asked what was up.

I had to pry it out of her and promised not to give her up, so I'll just say that after that conversation, I know I've judged people too harshly and that there is always another side to every story. When you know the laughter that leads to the tears, that people aren't heartless and really never mean to hurt anyone, that people really do love and lose, it can change how you've looked at a lot of things and people. And really, it wasn't that different from my own story and motives. I just wish I would have known her side, years ago. But then, again, I probably wouldn't have been accepting of it.

It feels good to forgive...it feels better to know you never had to, but sometimes we're too late to let the people that need to hear it, know that.

Its amazing, the web that weaves, the lives that intertwine. Compassion is a funny thing; how sometimes, no matter how much you or people you love have been hurt, you can still find it. Sometimes, no one is to blame.

I told her to go to his grave, that no one would care.

Everyone deserves to say goodbye and heal. Because, I told her, as I quoted my soul sister, "You can't help who you love. That's why they call it falling."