Littering in the dark.

In the dark, outside my apartment, cars circle and stop to park in the lot. I have watched them from the first floor before. They will sometimes park in pairs, one facing the road and one away from the road, so that the driver side windows are close. I see the burn of a cigarette in the dark and have heard the drivers of the cars talk to each other. Who these cars belong to is not known. If they are the private security police, as I suspect, a balloon full or water or maybe a firecracker would be appropriate. Wherever the cars park on the lot, the tell tale signs of a meal eaten remains in the morning; fast food packages and bags litter the space.

Less than a block away the paper reported an assault last week. A woman walking from the Kroger store with a bag of groceries pushed down and her purse stolen. It was at night about this time. Were the police cars circling down there that night too?

I think I will go sit on a bench and wait for them to come tomorrow night. Then stepping from the darkness I'll approach and inquire as to what exactly they are doing parking here on the lot instead of patrolling. I have no fear they will shoot me. The private security police aren't allowed to carry guns.

Saturday morning I got to see some friends and meet a new one at breakfast. There was a time when every Sunday I'd have breakfast with a constant though changing group of friends. We did that for at least six years and then stopped. That was a time when after Dennis died and I had finally gotten free of Roger, I could count on being in the company of people who meant me no harm and helped me function in the world. I had been a wife for over twenty years and though we had friends, they were couple friends. When I started seeing Roger I walked into his room and closed the door. I don't lay blame in this for I know I was a willing victim. The fact still remains, my breakfast friends saved me.

It took a long time for me to feel good in my own skin. I've often told people I could write a book about all the things not to do when you are widowed. I think I broke every rule and made every mistake. There isn't a way to warn someone though. I made mistakes and I forgive myself for them.

Today was a beautiful morning. Having gone to mass yesterday afternoon, I was able to relax reading the paper and listening to the CBS Sunday program playing as background music. Lenny came over and we read the paper together, eating bagels and drinking coffee. It was a lovely day. His daughter is having her first cook-out at her new home this evening. He said he was going to like her hamburgers and hot dogs, even if they were inedible. I told him that was expected of Dad if he was a gentleman. He is, so it won't be a problem!

My friends are such a blessing to me.