Today I realized that it is so hard to get caught up in the little details of life that one actually forgets to live. To get so focused on the stops on the very long bus ride each morning that you truly forget to count the blessings. Between worrying about catching lice or bedbugs and fending off panhandlers, drunks and mean stares from the people who are forced to stand, it is easiest to just zone out the window or read. Either of those activities, however, have pitfalls of their own.
At times like these, I need to remember the time in high school when I went to a club basketball camp. While I was definitely the worst person at basketball in the entire gym, I tried my best at every drill, passed by the skin of my teeth and knitted during lunch breaks. While I couldn’t join in the pick up game at lunch, I could work on my scarves and I did. More than one of the actual basketball players came over to sit with me and ask what I was doing, why I brought it with me to basketball camp, where did I learn. I cannot think of any other moment in my life when I did not fit in so starkly and yet I persisted in being myself. I was ridiculed that day, I know, but I also met some people who were genuinely curious about a different way of life. And from now on, this moment will play over every time I choose to sit and read on the bus.