I write and erase, and write again.
We talked about my anxiety sometimes, how life for me often felt like walking off a train into a busy station. There’s chaos and distraction, strangers and noise. I want to go backwards, always– back into the safe comfort of where I was. But the train behind me always seems to be moving, and where I came from is never there when I look back.
I wrote a post once, about that, where I mentioned how much admiration I had for my readers who have no blog. Readers like Paul. The Internet is a big world, and each blog space is different. The culture here is different. Each blog is like a station stop, and the anxiety of that analogy alone is enough to make me want to step away from the screen.
“Keep it simple,” he told me. “When you step off the train, look for a smile you recognize.”
Paul left hundreds of comments here. Thousands of comments throughout WordPress. One day, I traced through his many comments, and I found a dozen new friends. It was a comfortable feeling, landing somewhere where he already was. It was a comfortable feeling to find him here.
It was a smile I recognized.
When he did write a post for someone in the ‘sphere, he was always kind enough to let me know. He’d say “I’d be honored, Rara, if you stopped by”, and then he’d talk to me about the story, wherever or whenever I started the conversation.
And that story would lead to another story, and another.
I’d write and erase, and write some more.
We were both readers who lived stories, and I was honored by his presence here and everything he contributed to my little station stop.
This place is a safe space to me because of the smiles I recognize. This space is something I was able to come back to, because of the frightfully wondrous people who gather here.
Thank you, Paul, for your comments, your readership… your friendship.
I was honored.
The comments here are closed, please leave a “Thud” over at Mark’s post about Paul’s passing: