Noodle Prompt / Making Connections

Washing the Windshield

Seeing clearly in a life of smudges

Why is it that many of my prompt responses are anti the prompt? Not in a negative, nasty way. But, in a nope-that-doesn’t-work-for-me way or a yeah-not-anymore way.

I was a teenage rebel (first girl in my school to break the dress code and wear pants to school), then an extremely compliant adult, and now a persnickety older lady who realizes I missed a lot of life by being and doing what others wanted. Now, I am rediscovering the me that got lost in life. (She and I are getting reacquainted and I know we’ll be the dearest of friends.)

How do I connect with others? I try not to. Most of the time.

My world has shrunk due to family changes, Covid, and semi-retirement. And, I’m loving it. Seems I’m really an introvert who can tolerate company rather than an extrovert who doesn’t mind being alone.

I’ve always been social — in fact, a social organizer. The planner — you know the kind. The person in every circle who plans all the celebrations and get-togethers. The one who remembers everyone’s birthday. The one who chooses the best gifts for all occasions. The one who always opens her door, holds hands, listens intently, dries tears, and makes tea.

It was exhausting. And, as it turns out, unproductive and unappreciated.

You’d think after all those years and connections, my “friends” would wear a mask if I asked them to — you know, because we’re in a pandemic and you should do that for strangers and for friends. Because, well, friends don’t want friends to die of a preventable virus.

You’d think when I was sick and hospitalized, I’d get flowers or calls or at the very least, texts. But, no. Because all those connections were not friendships, as I thought they were. Truthfully, not even relationships.

They were lifelong misunderstandings.

Hardships have a way of washing the windshield so we can see clearly.

How do I connect? Carefully. These days, preferably from a distance — thank you, Medium!

I have my husband and my pets, a few close neighbors, my daughter and her family across the country, and a couple of in-person friends.

I work when others aren’t. I thought I would miss the energy of a busy office. I don’t. Not at all. The quiet is soothing and productive. And, how wonderful to not be part of everyone else’s problems and concerns.

I see people when I walk. Some I talk to. Some I don’t. I visit with neighbors — outside, in the fresh air. I see my nail tech and hairstylist (we’re friends), behind plexiglass, masks in place.

No lunch dates. No dinners. No concerts or plays or train trips to Manhattan.

I don’t miss any of it. Well, New York, a little.

I have food and music in my house. I have TV and movies and streaming everything.

I have ducks and squirrels, crows and wading birds.

I have my dearest friend Gina and our little road trips.

I have a funny and charming partner in life.

I have Medium.

I don’t Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, or TikTok.

I used to think I needed so much. Now I know I need so little. But, I also know I have so much. My life is rich with quality, not quantity.

So, rather than answering the prompt with advice on how to connect with others, I’ll answer this way:

Connect with yourself.

At least do that first. How will you know who or what you need if you don’t know yourself?

I’m not ignorant to the fact that isolation is terribly hard on many people. Or to the fact that many people don’t have the opportunity to be outside in nature as I do. Or that solitude is the playground of depression. Or that people have problems that I can’t begin to imagine. Or that living in a pandemic is damn difficult.

Still, I contend that we live in busyness because we cannot live with ourselves.

I am almost 67 years old and I’m finally connecting with me. Turns out, I’m pretty good company!

I look back on my life and I see a windshield of smudges. I was driving hell-bent-for-election and couldn’t see the potholes in the road. And, I hit every one.

My wish for you: a clean windshield and a holeless road.

Find your family. Locate your tribe. Connect and gather.

But, skip the lifelong misunderstandings. You deserve better.

© Dennett 2021

An anti-response (sort of) to this prompt by Lucy Dan 蛋小姐 (she/her/她):