Fighting Words

I bite my tongue and let it bleed,
cause all I have are fighting words.
I taste the taste and feel the burn,
since it's no worse
than what I ache to say to you.
I choke it back and hold it there,
Hoping it will stop me
From hurting you
And hurting me
And making us go nowhere

These Fleeting Moments

Last night I volunteered to stage manager for a show the musicians of the SPCO put on. Last night there were hugs and 'how are you's. There were genuine smiles even among genuine grief. But you never would have guessed it by their playing. I caught them smiling at one another during the opening Rossini. Being with them felt like home, feels like family.

I have forgotten what it's like to be apart of something I believe in. I can't remember how it feels to take pride in something that I do and how I go about doing it. Last night I remembered how much I like liking what I do. That feeling seems so far away from me today. 

Just another day. One just like any other. One like before. And one like after. But I entered work today, saddened by my happiness of yesterday. I was counting down the minutes before they even began.

4:30 rolls around. Dinner. I usually would grab a bite and head back to work to eat. Today I needed to stay away. A break. Away. I took a chance on the Chipotle in the skyway being open and I'm so glad that I did.

The usual exchange in conversation with the young kid behind the counter, who was covered in tattoos and obviously bored enough to want to bullshit with me for a few minutes. By the time I got to the cashier, they were both wondering about my day. Unlike me, I told them I was fine but not eager to get back to work... "a mess of a day" I told them. Almost in unison the guys nod their head in sympathy and say how they can understand that. Such sincerity. I was surprised I confessed my frustration, but even more surprised at how genuinely heartfelt their reactions were. One offered, "Maybe the tacos will help".

I sat in the back of the empty Chipotle to eat my hard shell tacos, just to stay away a little bit longer.

I cleared my plate in like 4 minutes flat and soon after the guy with the tattoos wanders back to me. He asks me if I'm feeling better as he takes away the red plastic basket. "A little," I say and add with a smirk that I'm still kinda hungry. He brightens and says, "What else can I get you?". I shake my head and laugh a bit. I should have realized my smile and insistence on nothing was not going to convince this guy. He smiled back and starts guessing which salsa I want with the chips that he's bringing over. "On me", he insists. He decides that I'm a guacamole girl. He saw right through me.

He comes around the corner again and I'm shaking my head at this point. So unnecessary. He tells me, "If not for now, then for later." He sets the bag in front of me, turns his back and walks away.

"What's your name?" I call out after him. 

Beau, a great name. Beau and I shake hands as I tell him how nice that was. Beau chalks it up to nothing and is glad it got a smile out of me. He looks me in the eyes and tells me he knows what it's like to have a hard day. "My baby sister passed away on Friday" We hold each other's gaze and I tell him how sorry I am to hear it. He breaks away from me for an emotional second and returns, recouped with "that's the way life goes sometimes". According to Beau, we're both having the same hard day. What Beau didn't realize though, was that he just spent his hard day getting a smile out of a stranger, and all I did with my hard day was appreciate his gesture.

He returned to work and I opened my guacamole. My eyes welled up a bit. There was something incredible beautiful and incredibly sad in the exchange I just had with this person. Where, just as it shed so much light on the good in people, it also reminded me of the pain we all carry with us. So there I was, sitting in an empty Chipotle, eating my guacamole trying not to outright cry, like ugly face, all out cry. I sat there, chip in hand, incredibly touched and not exactly sure why I was having such an emotional reaction. Maybe it was because I was touched by his honesty. Or surprised by his sincerity. Or even impressed by his generosity. Maybe I was just sad from his story. Or sad from my own. Still, in this fleeting moment, it seemed like I saw all of humanity. The good and bad. The love and lose. The happiness and sadness. And all from a perfect stranger.