Different

I traveled to New York City alone, to a conference where I knew no one. I recognized women I read, whose words and images I admire. But I didn't have a friend's arms to fall into for a familiar, reassuring hug. I didn't have soul mates to meet in the lobby for laughs, secrets, support. No one to steal away with for coffee, a slice or a stroll down Fifth Avenue. 

I don't know the difference between Blogger and WordPress. I don't want sponsors. I am not a brand.

My readers are friends, neighbors, and friends of friends with strangers thrown in. I know of only one blogger who reads regularly.

I sat at a table at the community keynote that quickly filled with charming, hilarious, obviously creative people. I looked at a card from one. "Your blog sounds familiar," I said. Women lowered their heads, turned their eyes and stifled laughter. "Oh," I said. "Are you famous?" More repressed chuckles. Silent nods. The blogger laughed with grace and humility.

I didn't know enough to know. 

I didn't go to the conference for parties. I really did go for the panels. And the city. And, truth be told, for quiet and relief from the mind-numbing grind of life at home with four young children. I was open to new friendship and sacred connections but I wasn't anxiously seeking either. 

And so, when I stood in line to meet a woman I adore, to have her paint my body, the word I felt in my heart and bones and beyond was "different." 

Not different "odd" or different "awkward." No judgment. Just "different."

But then a woman with sparkly eyes and a smile that shouts, 'shaZAM!!' asked whether she could take photos as Karen worked. "Hell yes," I thought, though I'm sure I mumbled nervous nonsense. 

I made a connection in that moment, with a stranger...

 

... who became a friend. 

I found support. 

 

Still different, just a little less alone.

Special thanks to Amiee of Mamieknits for capturing the moment, but more, for forging a bond. 

Comments

[BuenoBaby]

To reach that point in your life when 'different' is okay and to be celebrated. [I'd never go back to thirteen.]

Can't wait for San Diego! CAN'T. WAIT.

We will steal away for a coffee, or a slice, or whatever!

HUGS!

[mamie]

hell ya', woman. you are the bee's knees.

and i just read the email and your about page and feel slayed by that poem.

also, we have watermelons in the garden. woot. will send a picture soon.