Secrets

There you are listening to someone; they are sharing a secret. Not just any secret though! It is the kind of secret that oozes the possibility of divine intervention, guardian angels and/or beautiful, unexplained mystery.

You want to tell the whole world this private story, but you know you dare not. You want to ask them why they won't share their secret with everyone, but you know you dare not.

If you did ask, you know their answer would simply be, "I can't...it's a secret."

Just Sneeze

"Sometimes I sneeze, too," said a soft voice as I stood waiting, wishing I could wipe my freshly, sneezed-into hand on my pants. I turned toward the voice. There sat a chubby, 20-something girl with Down Syndrome. She smiled at me.
"Sometimes I sneeze," she said again.
Heading toward her, I ask if she has allergies or is getting over a cold as I am.
"No...sometimes I just sneeze," she answered.

Sarah is her name. She was writing poetry with a red pen in a pink journal and wore socks with hearts on them. We chatted. Then the food I was waiting for arrived and I said good-bye.

In the car, I paused. For the past 6 weeks I have been in emotional turmoil. As my world seemed to be making huge shifts, my heart would cringe at the uncertainty. I want this to make sense. My reaction to this feeling is to frantically look for answers. Sometimes they arrive. Sometimes they don't. All the while I feel guilty if I am sad because I know I am fortunate. I feel guilty if I am scared because I know I really will be okay and I have people that love and support me.
I thought about Sarah. Sometime she just sneezes. There is no reason. There is no answer; sometimes Sarah just sneezes.

Sometimes I am just sad.
Sometimes I am just happy.
Sometimes I am just scared.