Ordinary and not-so-ordinary vulnerabilities

Suddenly losing a train of thought, mid-sentence, in front of expectant students.

An ambiguous public restroom lock, toilet facing the out-of-reach door.

Clapping or singing a beat after everyone else has stopped.

Public banana eating.

Being a panicky flyer, trying to listen with empathy while a seat mate describes her son’s death in a plane crash.

Telling a Xanaxed stranger the story of losing your son: such a good man, so fearless. The propeller sliced right through the plane.

Saying yes.

An elevator ride with a close talker.

New beginnings of any kind. Thankfully: all looming question marks have the potential of interrobangs.

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How to begin again

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The Michael Phelps of Feelings