Raindrops were my company--
too many to count.
For a full hour they buffered me
from a crowd of people
who would note my physical absence or presence
but never the "me" inside.
...
This morning as I reflect on this situation,
I realize my absence is my cry
to be known;
to be loved;
to belong.
...
It also became abundantly clear to me
that I am 70 years old
and embarrassed to be so
insecure and immature.
SIGH.
Should I be surprised that quite randomly
(or perhaps NOT so randomly)
(or perhaps NOT so randomly)
this cartoon appeared on my Facebook page?
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