The only other person eating is an elderly Asian-American man sitting alone two tables away from me. He's gotta be pushing 80.
What gives? I can't stop wondering why he's here all by himself. At first I thought he was so content being alone, eating alone. It looks as if he doesn't have a care in the world. His next move being whether he's going to bite the english muffin or chew on ice again.
I wanted to go talk to him. In the past, I've been moved to go beyond my own comfort zone to reach out to someone who looked alone. I've approached people sitting by themselves and began a conversation with them before in the hope that they would feel that SOMEONE valued them, someone cared enough to acknowledge their presence. Their very heartbeat and existence a precious indication that they bear significance to reality.
Only this time I want to be left alone. I would probably not mind if he or anyone else came and sat across from me in this booth. I probably would strike up quite a friendly conversation.
But the old man grabbed his colorful violet and pink flowered can and stood up to leave. I wish him well. I wonder where he's going. I wonder how he's going to get there.
And yet, I wonder the same thing for me.
Speaking Spanish, I asked the waitress what her name was. She could barely speak a few words of English. She said her name was Laura. She smiled when she noticed I could speak her tongue. I'm glad she felt acknowledged as more than just a job title.
You can probably deduce why I have been awake since 3 a.m., mindlessly driving through the streets of Alhambra and San Gabriel.
I remember the intense pain I felt last April to desire just to be accepted for who I am. I didn't want to hurt her. I didn't want to bring her own identity to ruin. But that's what I feel I've done. And she's going to have to be the one to rebuild her own sense of self.
I too, will have to continue the rebuilding of my own identity. As painful as it feels, I just can't bear the person I was in the past. Though I wonder if I will be able to bear the person I will be in the future. Life without the kids in my own home. Life without the warmth of a loving caring partner beside me. Life, just like so many of my own friends, alone.
The sun is rising over the car lot across the street. Damn puerile sun metaphors coming into my mind again. I'll leave that be. My computer's dying.
But I'm not.
I know you'll hear from me again. And probably sooner than later. Yes, I a blog whore...happy now?
Right now, however, I have to figure out exactly what I'm doing sitting here all by myself in a restaurant Alhambra, California.
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Near the end of this day, as I waited for the sun to set over the Santa Monica Pier, I tried my best to hold a smile. I hear it's what we women do.
