Connection. Appreciation. Care. Love.
Watching WykD_Dave & Clover play Sunday night in a small side room of the dungeon was so powerful, so moving, I started crying. Seeing what they had. Remembering what I didn't.
Quickly and quietly, I slipped out of the space, grabbed a tissue from the rest room, and re-entered, taking my seat again. I wiped away my tears. I brought myself back.
NHF had not seen me when he first entered the room. Didn't see me as he surveyed the space. He chose a seat across the doorway from me, close to the opposite corner, and watched the rope scene as well.
I remained as I was, a quiet little church mouse taking in the play.
But when I returned and sat again, I suspected he saw me. It wasn't until I looked up and over at him that our eyes met. I gave him a smile.
He, in turn, pointed at me and with his index finger beckoned me over. I got up from my seat and quietly scurried towards him. His finger now pointing down towards the ground, I knew my spot.
My head was soon on his knee.
I didn't know if he saw me cry, didn't know if he gave the silent command because of my strong reaction or just because he knew I'd want it. But I do know being at his knee made me feel better.
He is not my Sir, nor is he my Daddy, but in that moment NHF was a good friend.
The Immigrant "Invasion" Is Just WMDs All Over Again
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There is no immigrant invasion at the southern border of the United States.
That needs to be said at the outset any time you wanna talk about What's
Wron...
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