***Warning – this post discusses some expletives and is probably not appropriate for little eyes.***
Sunny.
Breezy.
Fifty-three degrees.
My feet, rhythmically pounding beneath me, propel me forward while the (lack of) breath in my lungs fights to hold me back.
Breathe!
Run!
Breathe!
BREATHE!
Around and around the track’s nucleus of emerging springtime grass, minding my own business.
“HEY!”
Startled from my preoccupation with my feet and the pavement in front of me, I look up and around.
High school parking lot…
No one’s around…
Who’s there?
Who yelled at me?
Ah – green minivan, driving away,
side door open.
Teenager hanging out.
“FUCK YOU, BITCH!”
Soul halts.
Keep moving, I tell my feet. Don’t react.
My emotions dangled tenderly from my sleeve today, just one of those days where my existence in the world feels more raw.
So I was affected, just a bit.
I’m just a 33-year-old mother of one who lost a baby last year.
Would he have yelled at me if he had known that – if he had known how regular and ordinary my life has been?
That I’m sad?
Maybe.
Maybe his girlfriend cheated on him last night and he was mad at all females.
Maybe his mother did wrong by him and he felt hurt. Or maybe she did right by him in discipline and he didn’t like it and lashed out in rebellion.
Maybe he hated his boss and needed to yell at someone.
Maybe he feels powerless so he seeks ways to make other people squirm in pain.
Maybe it was none of those things. I don’t know.
I know two things.
I did nothing to him
and
something in him must ache.
As the car disappeared from sight and I breathed a little easier, I asked myself what kind of person I want to be.
Do I want to be someone who returns anger with hate?
Who counters aggression with equal strength?
Am I content to find myself afraid in the face of anger?
I know one more thing.
Left to my own proclivities I will naturally gravitate to hate, aggression and fear.
It is my mind.
It is my tendency.
It is my nature.
I require a daily practice of centering my mind…
of cleansing from my heart from yesterday’s resentment…
of dwelling in (at least) a moment of peace.
A daily practice.
So I came home
and found a chair
and sat
in quietness
and found the center of my heart
and listened.
It was messy.
Then, I talked, soothing the tender child hidden within
with the things I know are true
and safe
and precious.
And when it was done I felt a little bit thankful
for the boy who called me
bitch
because it made me do what mattered most.

You continue to amaze me with your strength, Heidi!!
You are on strong, beautiful, intelligent, wonderful bitch my friend!