She’s four feet, two inches tall, according to my calculations.
She hangs out near the dumpsters each day, smoking like a chimney. Sometimes cigarettes, sometimes pot, and she always feels the need to apologize for it.
She’s my neighbor. She’s in pain and very depressed. This isn’t my assessment; it’s hers.
I’m not sure how to help her just yet, so I told her my door is open, I mean, not technically. But yes, open. So far, I’ve only given her more stuff to smoke by introducing her to incense. She said she’s never used it before.
She’s in her early sixties and suffers chronic pain from an unnamed bone disease that prevents her from sitting still, moving or sleeping in a pain-free way. I don’t know what that means either, but that’s how she described it.
When I arrived home recently, she came over to me, distraught about scratching up her son’s car. She said it was the last thing she needed and wanted me to see the damage. I asked her what was wrong and she said, “Everything, but it’s all inside. I’ll come to talk to you later,” she said as the tow truck driver approached.
Well, she’s not come over to ‘talk’ to me before, so at first, I was a little anxious, wondering if I could offer up something better than incense. Then I had an “Ohhhh” moment.
Presence. It’s the gift we forget about, cause we don’t need to go shopping for it.
When I think of all the times it’s been gifted to me, I remember how uplifted I’d felt, how it seemed to clear some of the darkness, loneliness or pain. All is costs is a little bit of love energy.
When you run out of gift ideas, remember that your presence in the present is what supersedes all others. Presence says, “Everything little thing is gonna be alright.”
Be The Unwrapping