Each Thursday, join me for my once a week practice, Through the Glass Backwards. As I commute into work, I take the light rail downtown. Even though I tend to get motion sick easily, I usually end up facing backwards, watching as the city slips by. These vignettes will be a 200 word glimpse of things I see as the world outside me lives its life, and I am fortunate enough to see.
I miss you Ethan. Come home.
For the past week, as the light rail passes through the stretch of my ride that meanders through greenery and trees, I see the private message gone public. A graffiti tweet, less than 140 characters. There is a story there. There is a person who is gone, a person who is missed, a person longing, a situation that I don’t know. I can make up stories in my head, and I do, but does it reach into the sadness of that person’s longing? Does it reach into the exact moment when Ethan left and if Ethan can even come home? Where is home? How far has he gone, and how much further does he have?
Who is the person missing Ethan? How long has it been? Can I know the circumstances of this call out for someone? Can I even know the depths of the longing and the sorrow?
As we pass by, I breathe in and I try to breathe out goodness. May all beings be happy and free. I don’t know Ethan. I don’t know the message writer. But, I can understand pain, suffering, and longing. I reach out. Beyond knowing, beyond stereotypes.