Growing up in a very large family, I was seldom alone. There was always a sister, brother, exchange student, friend, friendly stranger, etc. around to keep you company, and safe from the creaks and quirks of our old house in Denver. We were all together. And I was safe. And loved. And happy.
Then I left for DC, and waved to the friends, and house, and strangers, and exchange students from the airplane window. But I was not alone. I had my sister by my side, and more sisters, brothers, grandparents, friends, and friendly strangers waiting for me on the other end. And when we walked into our new apartment hand in hand, Two and I were together. And I was safe. And loved. And happy.
Then came Baltimore--by many accounts a scary old city. But Two came with me, and brother C soon joined us, and we met some of the friendliest strangers one could hope to meet. Our friendly strangers then became simply friends, and some of them lovers, or husbands, or wives. And the city wasn't so scary because we were together. And I was safe. And loved. And happy.
I have always had "us" or "we," and seldom just "me." And I love being together with the parties that be. But as I grow older I'm not so afraid of alone. I like to go out with just me and my mind. And meander about leaving the others behind. Instead of a hand, I'll hold a book, or a leaf, or a camera ready to shoot. And I'm with just me. And I am safe. And loved. And happy.
