Recently, I watched someone leave, knowing I’d never see her again, and I thought, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see the back of someone in my entire life.” I wanted to dance around. I wanted to sing, “Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead.” (Oh hell, I’ll admit it. I actually did.)
It’s not the first time I’ve felt this way, and it probably won’t be the last. Unfortunately, there are a lot of toxic people in this world. It’s amazing how much their poison ripples outward, splashing all over those who are unfortunate enough to reside within their realm of influence.
I’ve also seen more than one person walk away forever, knowing I’d miss them very, very much. There are a few that I still occasionally cry over. People leave for a variety of reasons. Everyone has a different path to take in this world, and sometimes two paths can run parallel for a time, and then completely diverge. It’s part of life. That doesn’t mean I have to like it.
This got me thinking about backs in general. Turning your back can actually be aggressively rude, as was demonstrated to me quite recently by someone who wanted to make a point of telling the world that she did not want to acknowledge my existence. It came off as awfully childish and dysfunctional, but to each her own.
And then there’s the fact that no one can be as intimately familiar with one’s own back as others are. I have no idea what the back of my head really looks like. I mean, I’ve seen pictures, and have looked at mirrors aimed at mirrors, but it’s not the same. I don’t know what I look like when I walk away. I don’t think I’d recognize myself in a crowd if my back were turned.
The bottom line is that backs can be warm and cuddly, vulnerable, hostile, regal, defeated, strong, heartbreaking, excruciatingly painful, or a blessed, blessed relief. Maybe I should stop griping about the aches and pains mine gives me, and appreciate its complexity a bit more.
The View from a Drawbridge 