this imploding heart

the night is yours alone

I think I've brought it up before: I'm tenderhearted.
Who needs to cover it? Somebody was a crazy bitch jerk and used some really strong and specific words at me, loudly, in front of a lot of people, completely out of the blue. I switched on my quiet customer service manner and tried to sort it out, but it was a case of 'that bitch is nuts'. And nuts bitches don't want to dialogue.
As soon as it was over, I knew I should let it go. I opened up my muscles and relaxed my throat and tried to let it float out of my body while still pumping out the product and serving the people who just watched me get completely berated. No one said anything, just smiled timidly, tilted heads, and -in that completely Seattle way of saying without saying- said whoa. that was...whoa.

A few hours later, one of my best and kindest customers asked how I was doing, and told me that he was hurting all over after his day. I told him that I was also sore, but it was just my feelings.
"No less significant an ache" he replied.
Which made a big difference. Same as scalding myself. Same as knocking my legs on the table. Just a little scratch, forgive it and it will heal.

When I got home, instead of imagining all the brilliant biting comebacks that usually come with being poorly understood, I imagined that the nuts bitch and I apologized to each other and recognized each other as sisters. My spirit animal -who I hadn't seen in months- hovered by the window a moment, visited my flowers, then flew away.