Alone . . .

*********A recycled post.

A p r o n h e a d -- Lilly

Today I passed you on the road.  Our eyes didn’t meet through the tint, but I caught the outline of your face as you whisked by.   What thoughts were you thinking in your shiny new car?  Are you a real person like me, blood and bone, or only an actor in a Truman-type world—a  prop for the life I think I’m living?  Did you go home to your cozy suburban two-story where laundry and dirty dishes await?  Just like me?  I wonder if you care about me.  This “other” that shares your space, approximates your life, almost touching but not.

My house is on a street with about twenty-five others.  Every one has a sycamore out front and a dog in the back.  My house is in a neighborhood with about two hundred others, in a city of many more, street upon street, warp and woof.  We are many but…

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About apronheadlilly

wife and mother, musician, composer / poet, teacher, and observer of the world, flawed Christ-follower
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