The Circle of Life - Living

Tonight I had dinner with an old friend and ex lover. We chatted about nothing and everything, both of us working hard to keep up the façade that we were mature enough to still be friends. We had to. . . we had no one else in the world but each other, we were stuck whether we liked it or not.

I asked how his work was going, he answered splendid. Good and his health? Not bad, just the usual ulcer that comes with being an online broker. I told him about a new medication and promised to get him some. You’re always on, aren’t you he said. Well, that’s why they make us take the oath, I reply. This was a running joke with us. He asked what else was new in my life, I was going to say nothing but then for no apparent reason, I told him about the baby boy I had delivered the day before and how it had brought out a strange feeling in me. He smirked and asked me if I my biological clock was ticking. I told him I didn’t think I had one. This made him laugh.

He offered to walk me home. . . he didn’t think the neighborhood was safe for a girl walking alone at night. So many dangers lurking in the corner, I agreed, giving him the opening he needed to launch into a tirade about me still living like a pauper. As he had done a million times before, he offered to find a place for me in the ritzy side of town where he lived and as I had done a million times before, I declined. I like where I live, the noise, the rotten stench, the smell of human suffering, it all spoke to me. I didn’t tell him that, he would only tell me I needed to break away from the environment we’d both grown up – The State Orphanage, where no matter how clean it was, it never lost the oppressive air and smell that clung to it.

A couple of blocks from my apartment stood what used to be a playground. Now it was a meeting place for the homeless. Every day they come there, old and young, man and woman, children and teenagers, sometimes in groups, sometimes alone. No matter how different they are, they all wore the same expression – Hopelessness

A complete contrast to what I had witnessed the day before. A mother who looked at her son with hope filled eyes. He would grow up to be great; I bet she prayed just as I’m sure somebody did for these ones. Obviously prayers were no match for fate. . . how else can one explain why they were huddle over a burning trashcan trying to keep one, the same trashcan they fed from, drank from and clothed from. Every morning they wake up to a day with no promise, yet they continued to. . . I found it all very fascinating.

No surprise. . . my companion didn’t share in my fascination. He turned his nose up and cursed. Something had to be done about these bums, the scum of society, invisible to the rest of the world, they ought to be carted off to a deserted island, it wasn’t if they will be missed, he spat in disgust and that’s when it hit me.

My heart pumped faster, I felt the blood rush to my head and it was like I was coming back to life.

My boredom elevated and Tomorrow suddenly held promise.