Saturday, September 26th, 2020.
Friday, September 26th, 2014.
Saturday, September 26th, 2020.
Friday, September 26th, 2014.
My pace is my own and I am happy.
That time someone dumped a burned out car on my street while I was getting groceries.
4 AM when I’ve had no sleep, diverted to Seattle, with no idea when I’m getting home from attending my mother’s funeral is not the time.
Random passers by seem to find Heather and I hilarious.
When Depression takes hold, it’s hard to see the beauty around me. Which is striking to me, because my default state is one of constant wonder.
It took about eight minutes, FYI.
(But I am pretty directionally challenged, I admit)
I debated whether to call the police or not after this happened. On the one hand, they may have been able to get him some help and there’s a chance he picked a fight with someone a bit more willing (though I think my size and gentle nature were part of the reason I was targeted – if I were so inclined, he wasn’t a physical threat to me), but this is also how I end up reading about police shooting unarmed, argumentative homeless people.
Maybe I erred on the side of empathy, but at this point in my life I don’t really trust the police to make the right decision.
Lost in thought and worry.
At least it was the passenger?