Wristband

I couldn't figure out what to name this one, so I settled on Wristband. It might just as easily been Designated Driver or Special. Saturday was the Craft Beer Festival at Morton Arboretum, part of the birthday gift for my beloved. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow was, is and will be continuing education. I do not know what color the wristband will be today or tomorrow. I do know the CADC crowd is special, just as everyone is.

I wore a red wristband

On Saturday.

It allowed me to drink

Designer soda,

Be the Designated Driver

On the way home.

I felt special.

Yesterday I wore a red wristband

Like everyone else.

It meant we all were eligible

For lunch.

Today I expect

The same

All of us with our wristbands

Will eat lunch again.

All of us

Special.

Special just like everyone else

It is amazing to me how I have to learn this lesson over and over: that I am special just like everyone else.  I know I am not the center of the universe... still... I find myself in the rear seat thinking that everyone who agrees with me, sees things the same way I do, must be wise because they get it in the way I do.   Really I know that we need the whole range of perspectives to get ourselves looking out other windows. 
Really, believing that someone simply made a wrong turn at Lake Calhoun keeps me focused on myself, special all alone.

When I was small we used to fight for the seat

in the station wagon

Facing the car behind us.

Now I shudder at the thought.

But then

We waved at the drivers,

Waited for them to wave back.

When we went to the 4^th of July fireworks

I knew everyone was going

To the same place.

It was simply so exciting that I was sure

No one would miss it.

Even when we went to Grandma and Grandpa*s house

On Lake of the Isles

I thought everyone must be going there too

But perhaps they made a wrong turn

At Lake Calhoun.

Now that rear-facing seats are known

To be dangerous

Maybe children don*t entertain

The same thoughts

Anymore.

Now

I am older by a lot.

I know that everyone is not going

To the same place.

I think it possible that my life is not

The center of the universe.

Still I catch myself in the rear-facing seat.

I wave and think that drivers who wave back

Are more special

Than the drivers

Who don*t.

I wave and wish and believe

That we are all headed to the same place

The fireworks

Grandma and Grandpa*s house

If they only knew.