matter.

This one's been ruminating for a while.  The words are here, sometimes floating and sometimes flitting through, barely making contact, and sometimes planted firmly in the center of my mind.  But up until now, they've resisted my efforts to fish them out and string them together.  They're afraid that I won't do them justice - that my pen put to paper (fingers put to keys) will simply fail.

(How do you capture humanity in one simple paragraph?)

There is a man who often comes into the bakery where I work.  He is so sad.  The sorrow just seeps from his every pore.  I see it in his defeated posture, the barely concealed tears behind his eyes, and the self-deprecating laugh that he uses in a futile attempt to hide his pain.  But though he is sad, he talks.  He talks a lot.  He shares his life with me (probably more than he should).  Because all he really wants is connection.  He just wants to feel like he matters to someone - to anyone.

And really, if we are honest with ourselves, isn't that all any of us wants?

(He matters to me.)