Be kind when you read this
today, or years from now.
I made my first contact with
real life yesterday.
Like a newborn baby,
bursting into the world in wonder
Startled by sights of cars and people
What are these things?
And here is the funny part,
where comedy intersects with tragedy.
Perfect timing to come out of the woods.
I dashed like a woman on fire to the back of the store, nearly closing time, aisles empty of people. Afraid to see anyone I knew in my half-grey hairs and cracked, witches’ fingers.
Prescription ready. Pay. Run. Go.
Leaving the way I came in, I passed the greeting cards, stacked, overflowing, untouched. Except one section.
There were no sympathy cards.
Not one. Not one.
Emptied, like the streets and stores and spirit.
Sold, all sold. Like essentials.
Sympathy is everywhere. Everyone is dying.
But another essential appeared.
Must not dwell on drama or I will drop to my knees,
surrounded by mourning and misery.
(Survivor reality show casting? Call me.)
Is it a mirage?
Toilet paper from behind the front counter.
I asked for more than one package but the cheerful clerk said,
Sorry, one package per customer.
Insert the depressing organ sound. You are not a winner.
Life is a sitcom and the credits are about to roll.
I took what I could get.
Thoughts and prayers.
TP and Sympathy.
Be kind when you read this.
Be kind to the strangers who
suffer far more than you will ever know.
Some need toilet paper.
Some need sympathy.