As a child, I enjoyed the story of the velveteen rabbit. I especially loved the part about love's roughness. Do you remember what I'm talking about? As time passed, the child's unbridled affection took a toll on the rabbit. Love dulled the rabbit's fur, rubbed the pink out of his nose, unraveled his threads and unloosed his stuffing. But the child didn't care that his rabbit was dirty and worn. The child's heart clung to the rabbit's imperfections, and loved him all the more for it. And the child's love made the rabbit Real.
I've been thinking about how I love the people who cross my path at work. By necessity, so much of my loving is "sisterly" and "dutiful." By this, I mean that I can have a "heart for the homeless population" in general, but I must remain professional – keep my distance.
I'm in a public role -- I work in Development for a large organization -- so that's fine. But I am sick of trying to represent people in the abstract. So today, while maintaining my distance, I am going to do things a little differently. Today, from my car window, or from across the table, I will look hard for funniness in your walk. I will listen for the quaver in your voice. I will watch for the expression you wear when you think you are alone, and I will use the most specific language I can to describe it. I want to see the damaged and frightened and imperfect and beautiful you. I don't want to just love my idea of you. I want to stop, breathe, and really see you. And then I want to write about that.
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2 comments:
your writing is beautiful.
i miss you.
talk on the telephone soon?
YES.
miss you, too.
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