13 November 1997 (3)

Down the block lives an old homebound woman who sits at the window all day and watches people go by in the neighborhood. I've passed her by many times but only walked by without acknowledging her with a smile or a wave hello. The other day I finally did wave to her, and her countenance changed instantly: she smiled and nodded back. Now I feel like visiting her, listen to her talk about the many years of her life, let her re-live again her many decades of, I'm sure, loyal service to her neighborhood, family and country. Perhaps my doing so will make her feel alive again; vital and wanted, involved, protected and safe. Perhaps if I visit her and give her the chance to show her nobility, grace and strength, she'll feel her beauty once again.

An afterthought:
When I moved into my grandparent's home on Hayes Street in San Francisco in 1982, I felt uneasy then, too. After a couple months, I had a "sign" that I should be comfortable. I had a dream that grandma came back to life to visit me. We had a chat in the kitchen about whatever. When I woke up, I never again felt uneasy about living in my grandparents' house. It was as if (certainly the effect was as if) grandma had told me that it was alright for me to live there; that I needn't feel uneasy about living in "their" home.

The point is that whenever I move to some new place (if I feel uncomfortable there), I need to have some kind of "sign" to put me at ease.