A heavy heart shares my lunch.
~Gloria Rios
Dear Gloria,
My earliest memories of you always bring a smile. We used to share lunch together around metal-legged tables in a stained beige break room. We used the filthy microwave to warm our leftovers and complained about people who failed to cover their food when heating.
Sometimes while eating you made appreciative sounds, and uttered the word divine, about whatever delicacy was delighting you. I think I might have teased you about showing such joy for your meals… Silly me. In hindsight I have learned that much of life’s bliss lives inside little pleasures. Thank for being a teacher… What you shared by example has become integral to how I approach my days.
Like all of us, your life has not been a perpetual walk under sunshine and blue skies. What a gift it is to travel through life’s hills and valleys with your friendship. You live a life of service, through your job, as a mother, a sister, and to fluffy fourleg Flurry. Woof!
I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you contributed your voice to this chapter of Flourishing Fictions.
You make me want to be a better person.
Gratitude and Love,
Gail
I think I have put my finger on why I’m astonished by the people in your life whom you both admire and have learned from. You’ve always lived life with a willingness to learn and grow, while being aware of the gifts that arise from your friendships. Both ways.
At first I was just astonished by your connections with others. Your willingness to be vulnerable, out loud! Your keen views of the workings of the human heart, both yours and others. Clueless as to how that happens relative to my own sense of disconnection that I’ve long lived with.
So, why astonished? I jousted with life from a very different vantage point. Always in my head. Never able to look into my heart. Feeling superior to most others. Peers, parents, teachers. It didn’t matter. I’ve shared with you, Gail, and intimated in a number of my posts about my illustrious 30-year drinking career! It’s often said that alcoholics are egomaniacs with an inferiority complex. I assure you, that was me.
Some will note that getting sober of necessity happens after becoming teachable as the result of hitting bottom. Having a moment of clarity about one’s predicament. So at 46 that was me. A lot of catching up to do, but at 72 I remain convinced that being just another bozo on the bus is a much better fit than the old me.
I can only guess at the worthy teachers, friends, and family that could have provided great life lessons. Elbowing teachers out of the way doesn’t seem the right approach. So my becoming teachable at 46 was neither ideal nor perfect, but I was the cowboy willing to get back on the horse.
An older rock group sang, “Just hold on loosely but don’t let go. If you cling too tightly you’re gonna lose control.” So I try to hold on loosely to my opinions and beliefs. I don’t hit “hair on fire mode” when my wife says she prefers her way of doing whatever to my science guy ways. And still a long way to go…
So Gail, “You make me want to be a better person.”