I was thinking about “recruitment queues” the other day.
That sounds a lot more exotic than college students standing in lines….trying to get a job.
I never stood in a line.
I was an art major….art majors don’t stand in lines.
Not for jobs, at least.
Anyway….I was thinking about these lines, and the people who probably stood in them, who got jobs sitting at a desk somewhere, and who are probably retiring at 55 now….and that kind of life where the pursuit of a linear career and the attainment of material things were taken care of sounded pretty good.
That’s how I fool myself sometimes.
I suppose they wish that they’d taken a more circuitous and exciting route, sometimes.
Everybody wants what they think they don’t have.
I guess that’s human nature.
Sparrow woke up crying in her little bed later that same night….and I went and layed down beside her…to try and let her know that it was alright to go back to sleep.
She woke up and looked at me….smiled…patted my face….and closed her eyes again.
In a minute, I could hear her quiet sleep breathing.
That’s all it took for it to be good again…..me being there…close to her.
This kind of stuff happens all the time. We put children to bed, pay for college, fix the chimney.
We “do” because we have to….and because we want to.
No matter the reason….we “do”.
The things that we are , though, are harder to notice….or understand.
Sparrow patted my face….smiled….and relaxed back into sleep.
There’s nothing too exotic about that…parents all over the world are experiencing something similar every night…that kind of stuff happens with people.
It’s, hopefully, part of our shared human experience….comforting a child.
I could not have an accomplishment that meant more than seeing the look on that little face next to mine….smiling and going back to sleep.
When I was questioning whether or not I should approach thinking about regret for the evening, this little girl patted my face and made it all good again.
Who was the one that really needed…and got…comfort the other night?
“cast your soul” Wendy Waldman