In Evora, Portugal sits the Chapel of Bones.  I walked under the inscription: Nos ossos que aqvi estamos pelos vossos esperamos (more or less:  our bones are waiting for your bones).

Such a pleasant thought. 
A granite carved reminder that our time here is definitely short and meaningless.

I remember this day and the dread that surrounded it.  On this vacation I was making hard decisions.  My mind was formulating plans.  My heart lacked color and music.  It was impossible for me to act anymore.  I am a very poor actress.  I was wondering a lot of “whys.”

It was really a norm.  This impatient, self assured way of his choosing or deciding just to be mean for meaness sake.  It felt like water that seeps in from the soles of well worn shoes.  Gone is the comfort they once gave. Their worn out flavor brings on feelings of resentment. Knowing myself, I know I did not create or cultivate this response.  Cobblers couldn’t fix it.  The only thing left to do was to try this trip walking barefoot.
 
It started with him parking so close to another car so I could not open my passenger side door to exit the vehicle.  I had to crawl over to the driver’s side and as I lifted my head he proceeded to slam the diver’s side door in my face. 

He did these things often when I said or did something he did not like.  A habit which was more common than routine. 

In this holy visit he was disrespectful, not only to me, but also to this place and to those bones. 

I felt no hate or any disgust.  I did not give this type of behavior back.  What I did feel was a complete tiredness.  It washed over me again for the millionth time.  I was guilty of allowing this behavior to continue.  I had no way of stopping it.  He couldn’t control it.  How could I? 

This thing that had it’s own shape and dimensions.  

It just always was my fault. 

I have learned that people are who they are.  We might be able to influence them slightly, motivate them to be a better person, or evoke a feeling of caring, some sort of trust, or good humanly bond.  Maybe we can convince themselves, in our small moments of greatness, to aspire to be better people. 

(then we have to be careful about a jealousy or an envy if we become too dynamic) 

It is up to each of us.  Whom do we want to be for ourselves.  More importantly, whom do we want to be for other people.

What are we going to leave in our wake?  What do we leave behind if we can only control our responses to such individuals.

I want to approach each thing as if I have never been broken.  I want to smile to that stranger and to talk to that store clerk.  I get to know the parking attendants.  I know the books they are reading.  I try not to focus on my worries and my insecurities.  I want to listen and to take in the small joys or stories of my clientele.  I want to try and guide those struggling in the chairs in my office.  I want to really help.  I want to really make some sort of difference.

I want to be good and kind.  I want to be positive.  I want to love and nurture my girls with good and positive words.  I at times, do not deserve them.  I want to go out of my way and do the best that I can for those I sincerely care about and love.

I want moments with a lover that I crave to revisit.  I want reciprocity.  Experiences of learning and growth.  A feeling and caring that will grow and have deep roots.  I don’t want to judge.  I don’t want to hold back out of fear.  I want the beauty of sincerity and simple truths.  I want a combined approach that we each recognize that these moments together are fleeting.  Such experiences should be expended to propel us higher and make us better.  We have little time here.  Good should not be withheld or wasted.  A sharing of a day because we simply crave and desire to share it.

I want to keep those weeds of meanness and hurt out of my garden. 

 

I want to keep it out of my soul and out of my life.