Street Sightings

by MB

The power of magical thinking. I  imagined it and it came true.

You became more real to me in those 30 seconds (was it drastically more? less? I was suspended in the moment). You looked so small on the sidewalk, weighed down by bags in either hand. I'm not sure if you would have noticed me if I hadn't waved. But that's what I do. I notice. I'm just built that way I guess.

I've spent so long imagining how you really exist outside of the walls in your office, your movements beyond desk to chair to door to desk. The fullness and richness of your life remain a mystery, taunting me with its reality that will never reveal itself to me. 

To see you outside is to be reminded that you too are a body lost in the overwhelming mass of this city. Five feet of a heart and mind, spun off by children and a husband, another life into which I glimpse but to which I can claim no first-hand account.

You asked how I was and told me to let you know if you could be helpful. But in order to be helpful, you would have to be real.  

Yesterday I let myself become real to you. Curled on the bathroom floor, slumped over, I looked at my shoes and thought I am too sick to be mortified. I am too sick to be anything other than myself.

And so I emerged.