The auditorium was tiny, the music was huge. I was surprised. I mean I was in high school once, our choir sucked. Oh, yeah, now I've pissed off my high school choir. What are they gonna do? Track me down and glee choir me to death? Actually that is a possibility…
That was where I spent my Monday night: In a high school auditorium watching the Arlington High School choir show off. One friend asked me later if I brought a date. A date? I'm doing this divorce thing, remember? Besides, why bring your own hamburger to the butcher when he's got prime meat swinging in the back? Ok, I'm just joking, I swear. I'm not that kind of pig. Ok, maybe I am that kind of pig, but that wasn't why I was there. I was there because someone in my writers' group was singing and had asked that we watch and show support.
That's kind of what I've taken from this whole divorce thing. When things fell apart I expected people to be there for me. I expected extended arms to stretch from the mist and embrace me in warmth and fellowship. I know sounds kinda creepy when I say it aloud huh? Just like an older guy sitting in a high school watching little girls sing...oh.
Back to the mystery arms, "There there Rob."
It didn't happen that way. Instead, I relearned that I could stand on my own. I also learned that there were other people out there. Not only those who were where I am now, but those just starting on the road. People looking for the grabbing arms in the mist.
When I was in junior high, I wasn't a nice kid. I was a mid-low level bully. I guess I was like an office "in-charge" of the playground. I didn't hold any real power, except picking on kids smaller than me. To bigger kids, I was an easy target a "go-to" guy when they were bored. One day, while getting punched by a crowd of bigger kids, realized that I didn't enjoy getting picked on. Quite the revelation.
Because I was the intelligent free thinking kid (part of the reason I was getting a beating in the first place) I began tying thoughts together. If I didn't like this, what made me think that the kids I picked on liked it any more? Huh. I decided to think on it later, maybe it was just the pain talking. Later, hiding in the library, I still drew the same conclusion. I made a resolution to never to pick on anyone maliciously again.
After that, things got better. Oh, I still spent a lot of time running to the library, but I my conscience was free. I was a good guy, and sometimes bad things happened, but I didn't have to be the cause.
I'm a creepy set of arms clutching from the fog. That's what this has taught me. I know that people are hurting, and rather than complain about my own pain, I can show them how to survive. Oh, I can't offer much more than my time, my writing, and my experience, but if somebody needs any of those things here I am. I also do shadow bunnies against the mist upon request.
So last night I sat alone surrounded by families listening to Christmas carols, because somebody asked me. Oh, it wasn't completely altruistic; the alternative was hiding alone in my office library. So I went, and I applauded. I clapped so much that I had to shift my wedding ring to my index finger because it kept trying to fly off. The music was good, and I felt good being a small island washed by seas of good cheer. If I can splash that back at somebody else then my creepy island-mist-arms have gone to good use.
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