Massless

Summer breeze.

My memory is terrible. I can, however, remember terrible things. Mainly things I've done that I feel are terrible. These things have a sort of mass - and their "weight" provides a low-level pain which will never really dissipate.

But from time to time, even I am offered a brief respite. A soupçon of joy. And it makes all the difference in the world.

Some years ago. Lying on some grass, eyes closed. Two girls chatting nearby. I thought of them as self-involved. Their conversation began with the casual dismissal of someone they didn't know and then, softly, remarkably, melted into deep empathy and what seemed to be some sort of epiphany. A silent breeze blew on my face and I heard light traffic far away.

Someone made me a very nice dinner while I was sick. The breeze I felt on my face that day flows across the Oakland hills and across the bay tonight.

(I can't believe that you will believe, Dear Reader, that I've just told you what "massless" means to me.)