I wonder how many times that’s happened to my connections with the other focused, hopeful, yet excitedly frantic beings I run into in this place.
An almost but not quite.
Or the times I’m running to the train and realize I have 7 minutes before it comes.
Too early this time. Too eager to make an ally.
Making train connections just to get to work or home is new to me. I’ve lived in a car my entire life. But its so nice, and yet so hard, to let someone else run my life. I’m not good at letting go of control. I love to lead, to be the driver.
Too much leading lends itself to all my connections being missed connections in my book. So I let go, I morph and adapt just to find kinship.
It feels like a slightly shrunken t-shirt that I’m trying to yank and pull to suit my needs. I don’t know if I like this new way of dressing. A new way of being. A real way to connect.
Did I miss the connection again? Was I supposed to miss it? Can I get it back?
Is it possible to wake up to someone else realizing they missed me?
I watch the train come to an abrupt halt in front of me. Each car on the train connected by numerous hinges and springs, allowing it to flow without losing the two it’s married to on the journey around the city.
There’s another connection that I didn’t even see. And it’s strong, with numerous ways to hold the relationship together.
The separate trains connect and disconnect as the world ebbs and flows. But the cars on the same train stay hand in hand, through bends, twists and standstills on the track.
Did I miss the connection, or was I looking in the wrong place?
A new perspective and a new suit. Here we go again.