I'm torn in half.
Ripped straight down the middle.
Like one of those clowns who have half of their faces painted with a smile and the other with tears and a lipsticked frown.
I'm in mourning. If I were a religious Jew, I would be wearing black, would have the mirrors covered, I would be sitting on a low stool or on the floor. And yet, convention, conformity and my coping mechanisms compel me to hide the frowning side of my face.
My friend is gone and I'm spending my moments with distraction. Consumerism. Consumption. It doesn't fill the void.
So I look out--beyond myself, beyond my immediate sadness and onto a world that is hopeful for the first time. I'm swept up in the hype, the pride, the dizzy excitement, the optimism and hope hope hope that is quickly replacing my latent cynicism.
For the sake of the bigger picture, I want to put away my black clothes and don something red, white and blue. If I had a flag, I would drape it over my shoulders- or wrap it around my head.
Wrap it around my head as sort of a bandage- a covering of the loss I've experienced in my own life, the loss that has occurred in the past 3 weeks in Gaza, the past 6 months on Wall Street, the past 8 years in 2 wars, innumerable natural disasters and a collapse of confidence in ourselves and who we are.
We have another chance. To try again and wake up each morning fully dressed.
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