A little each day

"We don't crack up and fall apart.  Instead, our hearts break a little bit each day."

I can't recall if my mom or my dad used to say this.

Each of them would have had their own particular reasons.

I know what they meant, however.

I don't rage.  I don't throw things.  I've never been addicted to drugs, or alcohol, or even men who were bad for me.

Yet there are painful and important moments.

This has been a week of small heartbreaks.

A friend's careless and clear indifference as he takes off like a racehorse in pursuit of a new love.

Threads dropped without explanation as another pursues career dreams.

And other nascent seedlings, ripped up and cast aside.

I'm not an easy person to get to know, or to abide with.  In myself I harbor many contradictions -- a rigorous if random mind and a profound emotional sensitivity, passion for world affairs and deep introversion, faith and curiosity, doubt and its polar opposite.

Mostly, I require of my friends an honesty and straightforwardness that challenges all conventional norms.  Many (and I don't blame the many) can't abide that kind of deep sea diving in quest of insight.

Truth is, the murk at the bottom of our mind is as rife, if not more so, than the treasure.

In a few days, perhaps I will have forgotten the sundered relationships that impel me to grief.

They will be little more than pinpricks, reminders, cautions.

If I have learned anything, it is not to hold on too tight when someone else has let go.

But today, today is for mourning.