Today's post is one I had written and posted a while ago. Today I am feeling this all over again. Today I can't get past it. I can't stop thinking about this. Today I am grieving for what was. For what is. I am weary of the pain.
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I see a woman walking to the grocery in her pajamas.
Stringy hair.
Toothless grin.
Overweight.
A cig in one hand.
Mountain Dew in the other.
A worn look in her eye.
She has been places no one knows about.
All alone.
I feel no judgment.
No condemnation.
No criticism.
It could be me.
Compassion overwhelms me.
Not mine.
His.
I see a drunken man walking his bike down the highway.
Shoe laces dragging.
A brown bag in one hand.
A bottle in the other.
Stumbling.
Dirty.
Dark.
Grasping at life.
Hopeless.
I feel no judgment.
No condemnation.
No criticism.
It could be me.
Compassion overwhelms me.
Not mine.
His.
I see a mother in the checkout at the grocery.
Tired.
Stressed.
A little boy begging for gum.
Screaming.
Throwing a tantrum.
She is yanking.
Hitting.
Hissing
how dare you? between seethed teeth.
The baby girl in the cart.
Crying.
Hungry.
Sad.
I feel no judgment.
No condemnation.
No criticism.
It could be me.
Compassion overwhelms me.
Not mine.
His.
I see a rich girl at the shopping mall.
A designer purchase on each arm.
Perfect makeup.
Prada sunglasses.
Expensive jacket.
Heels.
Eyes without sparkle.
Used.
Wanting more.
Searching for purpose.
Seeking love.
Empty.
I feel no judgment.
No condemnation.
No criticism.
It could be me.
Compassion overwhelms me.
Not mine.
His.
I see a little girl in the line at the post office.
Stained coat.
Mismatched boots.
Bangs in her eyes.
Lollipop dripping from her chin.
In her own little world.
A whole life ahead of her.
Dancing circles around her mom’s legs.
Ignored.
I feel no judgment.
No condemnation.
No criticism.
It could be me.
Compassion overwhelms me.
Not mine.
His.
I see a mother at the movie theater.
Frazzled.
Searching her purse.
Three sons with her.
Fighting.
It’s her weekend with the boys.
She is treating them.
Popcorn.
Skittles.
M&Ms.
Coke.
A grand total of thirty-five dollars.
She only has twenty-five.
I feel no judgment.
No condemnation.
No criticism.
It could be me.
Compassion overwhelms me.
Not mine.
His.
They are somebody’s.
Daddy.
Son.
Mommy.
Daughter.
I feel no judgment.
No condemnation.
No criticism.
It could be me.
Compassion overwhelms me.
Not mine.
His.
~Becky