I’ll do my best

 Met an old friend for coffee this morning. I felt a bit nervous meeting her again. You see, I've been neglecting her for quite some time. 

I've ignored her requests for a friendly meeting because I feared we'd have a lot to talk about. How I tend to take on the world's injustices and pain. How I often beat up on myself for being too small. Too quiet. Too insignificant. Too serious. Or how often I put myself down or tell myself I'm not smart, attractive, or witty enough to be considered. Turns out she's felt the same way for some time now, too.

So, we sat together in a sort of silent knowing. I remembered how she used to love reading novels. How she used to love painting on big canvasses or writing stories. Or cooking big meals for people she cared about. Or taking long walks in the forest for hours alone. How she used to sing loudly in the shower or in the car. I remembered her love for animals and trees. How she took unpopular stands and sat comfortable with the consequences. And I remembered when she would look up into the night sky in wonder at its vastness, and every other care would slip away into the ether.

We sat in silence while we thought about all the pain in the world. The cruelty. The pettiness. The wars. The violence. About how we related so much to the unheard of this world. Those who rarely get attention. And how they have always been our people. 

Then she looked over her coffee at me and flashed a sad smile. "Don't let this much time pass before you see me again."

And all I could do was look away and reply: "I'll do my best."

h/t Kenn Orphan