This time last year...

I'm walking home talking to myself. Talking to myself in my head about my day, how long it was, how much I gave to the company, how late it is. It's Friday night and I'm only getting off the train at half past seven. I got to work at quarter past nine but I was only away from my desk for fifteen minutes all day and reminding myself how hard I had worked this week. Talking about how much I'm giving and going over conversations with people who ask more from me. People who wonder if I'm fully committed, working to capacity, all that shit. Going back to those conversations and having them the way I would have if I didn't have to hold back. At the same time I'm conscious of the underlying feeling of a little loneliness. Familiar but distant. Working myself up a little. I'm oblivious to the man walking toward me until he yanks me out of myself with "hullo luv". He sounds straight out of Billy Elliot. Despite myself I smile contagiously at the man and giggle, he smiles back and we walk on.

I suddenly feel blessed, happy. He's made my day. I want to turn around and yell 'hey, you made my day' but I don't. I keep walking suddenly more aware, acutely aware of the path in front of me. I'm in the moment, right in the moment, here, present. I see a toddler in the nuddy by the gate of a house. Naked except for the brown sandles on her feet. There's fuss in the small front yard of the Victorian Terrace house. A man, presumably her father, drops to her sandled feet in front of her with a roll of toilet paper to set down beside her. He had run to be next to her and tripped over the small Jack Russel in his way. I hear the dog squeal and run away, to the distressed cries of another small girl, presumably his other daughter, "you hurt my pubby Daddy. You hurt my pubby". "I didn't hurt your puppy. No I didn't" he contests as he pulls at the toilet paper to wipe the shitty bottom of his naked daughter by the gate. Her bottom is covered in shit. I imagine the commotion the man has just experienced. Imagine his wife out with friends, or working late or at the shops. Imagine his hassle. I think of my problems. Minuscule in comparison.

Ever alert I cross the road by the house I call scary and almost step in a not long dead Sparrow with an eye hanging out of his face. Again, minuscule in comparison.

I come back to the thought of the loneliness and the day, the weeks and the conversations. Twice I've heard this week "you are so bright", "bright, my God. You are so bright". Christ; if they only knew what that meant. If I only knew what that meant. If any of us knew what that meant!

Back to the thought of the loneliness. The surprise of it. Am I lonely? If I'm lonely where would I rather be, who would I rather be with? All my great friends come to front of my mind, I'm no longer in the moment. I think of them all and then by surprise I'm swallowing the lump in my throat and holding back tears that threaten if not menace. I can't decide between them, can't pick one or a few to be with right now. I would have them all. I can't decide. I'm not lonely then. I'm blessed.

I want to be by myself. Enjoy the beauty of solitude until I'm sick of myself and need the company again.