I hear the movements that are quiet and gentle encroach on to my dreams as my child,now brimming with adult actions leaves for her work ,a nearly three hour commute away. The idealism that sparked at the start still glimmer as she put away the things to take in the morning, but there is despair for the youth bleeding through as it clots into hopelessness. I see the weight of it in those eyes.I hear snippets that spill through the frustrations of teaching at hope-lost schools, students that have nothing to spark interest... except their own reflected apathy
Some days I too struggle with similar frustrations.What is it that I share with my children; may be it is a disease-a disease of idealism.When a whole nation propels itself on greed,we stand apart- our idealism at least is never contagious.
I understand , when she says -" what is the point, no one cares-not the students, who at least have a chance if they did,but they do not want to".
I try to imagine our future ., the collective future of our nation, future that spill out of the present;out of the apathy and greed mix...It is a bleak one, where a social divide just grows, where some fools like us still carrying our idealism gene (or virus) , keep going because we can't help it, despite our mounting disillusions-that all our efforts will hardly produce a dent, but we still hope...yes,with that hope still alive, we keep going. we may stop to buy a healthier sandwich on the run , getting more frustrated that healthier is a relative term and at the other end of that sandwich tube is 'the gloating greed laughing its way to a fatted bank'. Then we wearily lay down to a short compressed sleep at the end of the day, to dream of vegetable patches that grow without effort, and a relaxed time to prepare and enjoy those vegetables. ..
Even before dawn streaks the horizon, she goes to her school to teach -expand their vocabulary beyond curses, hoping that they will keep the drug haze and gang dance away for a few seconds to spark interest in plants, animals, health ...science may be, may be a slight spark that can light the fire and stop their dissolving selves,fading into time...
And I too move , to the work mill , hoping when I bring up plant products to an obese one , it is not because I have some vested interest to sell something, but it is because fruit flavored soda does not equate to fruits. Besides that weight is a weighty issue when you are tipping past three hundred pounds ... I feel my right to walk, run, grow my vegetables, eat my food that I cooked, and sleep are put on the back burner, all trampled over as I run in circles around your needs that keep growing and tax me out of my existence. Then there are ones who gets upset that I pointed out some critical issues.... keep gaining in pounds, pressure and sugars too, and some where it has to give...
Where it gives is at the most frayed area of our social fabric, the trampled area in the grey zone caught some where between entitlement , greed and apathy.
There are no systemic solutions...only fix ups that keep mounting, further taxing into my rights of clean air and a time to breathe in. so I rush to my car to get to work, to your lengthening list of fix it nows, resentment briefly rising in me for the time I loose daily- to perchance sleep, read a good book,run, garden a tiny bit...then I gather myself... look forward , to, another walk as the world around me slumber on a clear Saturday morning, to the breeze that rustle the leaves by the boardwalk as the sun shades the far sky pink on a random day of the week which I try to squeeze in, all so to erase the grip of your lists... Then I hope for those brief moments to brighten my days, with that I hope for you...along with my children's hopes for those of you caught in , frayed spots...
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