As evening took over day, we prepared the meal that would bring us together one last time before we slept. Simple conversation, good deeds and smiles filled the house, swirling in with the smell of a Mediterranean meal being prepared in the kitchen. My heart filled with joy as I imagined us growing closer, a family meal, that I was part of. I cleared the table to allow room for the chicken and vegetable medley. The man of the house laid the plates down, like works of art on a large canvas. The boy I know so well was smiling, happy to be in the sweet company of the ones that love him so well. I watched the peace and harmony around the table before sitting next to my favorite friend, when I realized that no meal was set in front of my black wooden chair. As politely as I could ask, where was my plate, my heart dropped. Nothing was prepared for me. I am not a part of this group, this collective of humans so consumed in themselves. I came unprepared to this gathering, where I was expected to provide for myself. Stubborn soul kept me seated through the entire meal, as I ate, my heart built walls with bricks and fresh plaster. My ears allowed nothing in, and an encore of deep drones and tones prevented all positive energy from entering. The eyes that hold consciousness fogged over. Your heart is nauseating.
I don't understand the now before the then.
Question of the blog:
Do your dreams feel like reality? How do you deal with stress and frustration?