What the best me did today.

I find myself constantly surrounded by this strange air; a feeling; a moment suspended in time.  Like I am everywhere.  No, not everywhere, but every time.  I am six and fifteen and thirty.  I can have a sword fight with fallen tree limbs and attend very important meetings in the same day.  Everybody that I have loved, then lost, is still here, somehow around me and always, always reminding me to think of them and remember everything.  I know it's all of this free time I have to just think and think and think until I get too tired to think, but then I still do it anyway because I don't know how not to.  So I go through my entire life; every memory I've ever had, front to back, then back to front and sometimes just all jumbled up.  I can suddenly remember people that I've forgotten existed.  

I delivered mail to the house where I broke my wrist and learned to roller skate and one day, Jared broke out the window on accident and we laughed forever.  The house is a different color but the sidewalk is the same.  So is the tree.  And the mailbox.  And it makes me really confused how some things can be so unchanged after sixteen whole years while others I wouldn't even recognize.  Did life move on or didn't it?  Are we living in order or will we someday get to go back and visit the times we miss the most?  When I finish writing, I go back and edit, fixing all of my errors and rewording things to my liking.  It's unfortunate to realize I can't do that with my life.  But I CAN be the best me every day.  

And my spotlight moment of today was this:  A woman walks her two dogs every day.  I'd estimate that she is about fifty years old, but she has the mind of a child and talks like one, which is probably what drew me to her in the first place.  I have this strong sense of protection, as if she needs me there even though it's obvious that she is making it through this world just fine without me.  Anyway, today, I met up with her on the sidewalk just after the nine o'clock downpour.  We were both soaking wet and so was her dog.  She looked sad so I tried to cheer her up by wringing out my hair.  She then told me why she only had one dog.  "My black boy dog, him died.  Him was shot up by a needle and I couldn't watch."  She got teary-eyed and so did I.  We talked for a couple of minutes, which is more than I normally allow myself, but I certainly wasn't just going to walk away from a conversation like that on a glum day like today.  I didn't make her laugh hysterically or change her entire life with my sympathy, but I listened to her and that is what made me the best me today.  People just need to be listened to.  So that's that.  My advice: LISTEN.  And if you have something to say but don't want to be an annoying tell-all, just start a blog like me.