Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Broken Broom Broken Home

The other day, I brought a grown woman to tears...
It was a small misunderstanding, and slightly humorous in looking back. But it struck me as slightly strange that this of all things would be our final interaction.

I walked outside, moving toward the large dumpster that stands waiting at the far end of my complex.

In my small journey I encountered one of my neighbors, wandering out of her home to do the same.

In the past few days she had been packing, her mother having traveled all the way from Florida to help her with the task.

This young woman had just moved in only a few months before, and after having some difficulty acclimating to her new surroundings and finding troubles at home, ended up splitting ways with her husband of only three years.

So seeing that her home was again empty and that she was holding a broom with a broken handle, the last of her remaining items I asked her if she was glad to be done.

She burst into tears and said, "I still miss him"

It was an awkward moment and I tried to correct the situation by explaining that I was referring to her ordeal with packing up her home and moving.

Another poor choice of words and a less than pleasing fair-well to a neighbor I never knew.

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