Meeting Me Where I Live

Its such a relief to meet someone who understands me.

For most of my life, I’ve felt like an oddball. An outsider. A square peg in a round hole.

Perhaps that’s because I was uprooted from New England at age 10, and plopped smack dab in the middle of the rural south. In a tent. Or maybe it was because I was liberal in a red state for 40 years. I was also a girl who never wore make up, and preferred tonka trucks to dolls. Like Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, I just didn’t fit in.

Because of this, on the rare occasion when I encounter someone who gets me, I’m so relieved that I feel like weeping. It is only in moments like those that I realize what a heavy burden it is to be different. It’s exhausting, always having to explain oneself or justify one’s actions. And then there’s the constant second guessing. “Nobody else has this opinion. Does that mean I’m wrong?”

When someone meets me where I live, deep in the heart of me, I know I’m home. And it’s so nice to have someone right there, in my home. It makes me realize how lonely I am the rest of the time.

If you find someone who truly understands you, dear reader, cherish that person. It’s a miraculous thing when two unicorns meet. Rainbows have been known to happen.


Like the way my weird mind works? Then you’ll enjoy my book!



Author: The View from a Drawbridge

I have been a bridgetender since 2001, and gives me plenty of time to think and observe the world.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: