"In the past"
"Lonely in a crowd"
Word Count: 641
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: navel gazing
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc): N/A
Summary: Morose reflection on being alone
Link:http://gothtique.livejournal.com/
Looking back, it was hard to remember a time in her life when she hadn't been lonely.
She wracked her brain and fought back tears.
Knitting together and drinking with a group of women who had collected around her. Some made better scarves than others, some came religiously, some patterns more interesting, but it usually involved a steady klatch, more than one bottle of wine and desceded in to laugter that carried them long into the evening. Perhaps they were some of her oldest and best friends, but they had all gone their own ways, moving, having kids, changing jobs. They had not been togther in over a year.
Maybe the folks she met at a favorite local bar, on Wednesday nights when she dropped her children off at boy scouts. It was 90 minutes, once a week, but there is something to be said for going some place where everyone knew her name and looked forward to her arrival.
The dozens of families and children she knew through having 2 children. Band practice, know your school nights, volunteering to chaperone class trips, carpools. Graduating classes of 400 kids, and they had all grown up and moved away, their families drifting away with them.
People in college to play bridge with, intermural sports they were horrible at, but still played just to hang out together for a bit and laugh.
Nearly 30 years later, there were maybe a half dozen she was friends with on facebook. They didn't really talk anymore, but played a long from home, keeping track of marriages and how many spawn they had produced.
She had been surrounded by people who knew her, her whole life it seemed.
Growing up in a small town where everyone knows everyone.
She had gone to her 25th high school class reunion. Everyone seemed inpressed with the stories she told of traveling to far away places, the interesting jobs she had had, her current work. Truly, it was simply morbid curiousity. Had she done better by running away from that valley in the middle of no where, or were they better having stayed home? Locked into the familiar? Growing where they had been planted.
More than anything she missed her children.
20 years of shopping for them, feeding them, buying clothes and birthday presents. running them to school, rehearsals, lessons, games, performances. Planning parties and celebrating holidays. She had worked so hard to never miss a performance. To always be there on the sidelines so, when they looked up into the crowd, they saw her and knew that she was there. That they were not alone.
But her children were gone now.
Maybe it was partially her fault. She had tried to keep up with her children after the divorce, but they were 1200 miles away and were still as busy. She wondered who drove them to band practice now. Did their father even bother to show up for performances?
She could message them, but the often ignored her messages.
She could call them, but her calls usually went to voice mail.
Settled now in a large midwestern town, she had lived there a year. There were maybe 30-40 people she would know if she ran into them at the grocrey store. People from the arts association, the liquor store she stopped by weekly, 1 or 2 from the YMCA where she tried to stay strong. Their names were in the back of her head, somewhere, but she could never remember them when surprised by a joyful "Hello!" in some random place. They had never come to her house or invited her to dinner.
Surrounded by people in the grocery store, neighbors, strangers on all sides, everywhere she had looked. Thousands of people at a parade, at a concert, at the fireworks on 4th of July.
Alone in a crowd.
Word Count: 641
Rating: PG
Original/Fandom: navel gazing
Warnings (Non-Con/Dub-Con etc): N/A
Summary: Morose reflection on being alone
Link:http://gothtique.livejournal.com/
Looking back, it was hard to remember a time in her life when she hadn't been lonely.
She wracked her brain and fought back tears.
Knitting together and drinking with a group of women who had collected around her. Some made better scarves than others, some came religiously, some patterns more interesting, but it usually involved a steady klatch, more than one bottle of wine and desceded in to laugter that carried them long into the evening. Perhaps they were some of her oldest and best friends, but they had all gone their own ways, moving, having kids, changing jobs. They had not been togther in over a year.
Maybe the folks she met at a favorite local bar, on Wednesday nights when she dropped her children off at boy scouts. It was 90 minutes, once a week, but there is something to be said for going some place where everyone knew her name and looked forward to her arrival.
The dozens of families and children she knew through having 2 children. Band practice, know your school nights, volunteering to chaperone class trips, carpools. Graduating classes of 400 kids, and they had all grown up and moved away, their families drifting away with them.
People in college to play bridge with, intermural sports they were horrible at, but still played just to hang out together for a bit and laugh.
Nearly 30 years later, there were maybe a half dozen she was friends with on facebook. They didn't really talk anymore, but played a long from home, keeping track of marriages and how many spawn they had produced.
She had been surrounded by people who knew her, her whole life it seemed.
Growing up in a small town where everyone knows everyone.
She had gone to her 25th high school class reunion. Everyone seemed inpressed with the stories she told of traveling to far away places, the interesting jobs she had had, her current work. Truly, it was simply morbid curiousity. Had she done better by running away from that valley in the middle of no where, or were they better having stayed home? Locked into the familiar? Growing where they had been planted.
More than anything she missed her children.
20 years of shopping for them, feeding them, buying clothes and birthday presents. running them to school, rehearsals, lessons, games, performances. Planning parties and celebrating holidays. She had worked so hard to never miss a performance. To always be there on the sidelines so, when they looked up into the crowd, they saw her and knew that she was there. That they were not alone.
But her children were gone now.
Maybe it was partially her fault. She had tried to keep up with her children after the divorce, but they were 1200 miles away and were still as busy. She wondered who drove them to band practice now. Did their father even bother to show up for performances?
She could message them, but the often ignored her messages.
She could call them, but her calls usually went to voice mail.
Settled now in a large midwestern town, she had lived there a year. There were maybe 30-40 people she would know if she ran into them at the grocrey store. People from the arts association, the liquor store she stopped by weekly, 1 or 2 from the YMCA where she tried to stay strong. Their names were in the back of her head, somewhere, but she could never remember them when surprised by a joyful "Hello!" in some random place. They had never come to her house or invited her to dinner.
Surrounded by people in the grocery store, neighbors, strangers on all sides, everywhere she had looked. Thousands of people at a parade, at a concert, at the fireworks on 4th of July.
Alone in a crowd.