"Community, Sensitivity and the Leaving Concept"
When I read your excellent blog it brought back so many memories and thoughts of my time on social networking sites these past two years. It has been an amazing journey.
These days it is difficult for me to communicate my thoughts through speech or the
written word, so please bear with me.
Most of my time was spent on LV, this is how I envision it, looking back.
"When I opened my door in the morning and looked around there was a vast expanse of
land, green and quiet except for the birds singing and the rustling of leaves.
Down the road apiece I would stop in here and there and visit for tea.
At each house a friend would tell me a joke, a story, share their fears and sorrows,
even sing me a song in their bathroom while playing the guitar.
They'd show me their cats and dogs and share their love of animals.
There was even an English lass who served us tea and shortbread cookies
which never failed to delight me.
Sometimes a few of them would get together and perform a mystery, comedy or
group song. One never knew what they would come up with next, why, one day
there could be the 'twinkie' moment and the next a dancer wearing sexy black boots
or a little girl climbing out of a Big trunk!
Many folks came to visit at my house, I mostly had cat stories to tell but they seemed to enjoy them.
Now and then there would be a for sale sign on a front lawn.
We'd visit and say goodbye, wishing they'd change their minds.
Sometimes they'd move then be back after a couple of weeks, stay for awhile
then put the sign up again. After awhile I stopped attending the going away parties,
it was just too confusing. I didn't worry about them, it seemed they always had lots of company.
At times while walking I could hear a ruckus, arguments would break out, a few days later all was peaceful again.
One morning I ventured out to visit one of my favorite places but no one was home.
I didn't worry, I knew they'd be back, they'd lived near me for a very long time.
Soon I noticed that the mail was starting to overflow, newspapers were piling up
and the garden needed tending.
Being concerned I sought out their neighbors and asked if anyone had heard from them.
It seemed no one knew where they had gone or if they were alright.
None of us had the key.
We sent out search parties, trying desperately to find them.
I even created a new place at the crossroads, hoping they would see it if they
happened to pass by, with a big sign saying how much we missed them.
In the winter they came back.
They had new stories to share with us.
They probably wondered what all the fuss was about.
I didn't ask where they had gone or why, I was just so relieved to see them again.
In my heart however there was this tiny fear that stayed with me,
what if they left again? I had missed them, so very much.
One day the lights dimmed so much in my house that I could hardly see.
Outside it was as though a slow moving eclipse had taken place.
The darkness was so complete that I could hardly bring myself to step outside.
People still came to visit but it was difficult to answer the door.
The words to express what was happening seemed to elude me.
Somehow I managed to get a message out to a few people, I didn't want
anyone to go through the experience I had when the mail and newspapers
started piling up and the garden was left untended.
I thought I would fade into the darkness and never return.
When I moved, to a tiny place with few neighbors, it felt safer.
A few people found me and still came to the door. Even when I wouldn't answer it they
snuck in the back not seeming to mind the absence of light. They brought
candles, told stories and told me they heard me, even when I could not tell if I
was making sense.
They were stubborn as hell and would not leave.
In fact they told me to quietly come back and visit some of the
old places, there were so many stories I had missed.
I found myself telling little stories again.
One of them was called "Deja Vu" and was dedicated to the friend who left
came back and left again. It was difficult to write but I had to, it is so
hard to explain why, perhaps only the heart knows.
It is still dark here but every now and then I'm moved to
open the door and peek outside thinking one day I may hear that song
"Here Comes The Sun", again."
Thank you Sara.