Randy described me this way tonight. Never delicate, always fragile.
Then he said “Actually, those four words describe you and me. They describe us.”
He is not wrong.
We’re fragile as fuck.
In different ways, both of us can crack like blown glass given the right set of circumstances.
Because no matter what, we bounce back and keep going. Like those blowup punching bag clowns.
We take it on the chin and keep bouncing back. I mean, I guess sooner or later, they lose their air.
It’s cool, Randy and I aren’t there yet. Mostly. We might be slightly deflated, but hardly enough to even notice.
The “us” part of me and Randy isn’t delicate. Combined, we’re titanium.
We weren’t always, though. We had some times when we were barely aluminum foil.
We’ve always had something solid. We just needed time and maturity to make it to the titanium years.
I don’t know what prompted Randy to describe me this way. I just know I’ve been thinking about it for hours now.
Because this doesn’t apply to just me and Randy.
We’re all this. We’re all fragile.
I see it every day.
Women are furious and scared as we watch our autonomy stripped away.
I read articles and posts on social media and so many of us are consumed, all the time, by state of our governments.
How can we not be fragile right now? That’s how things break, they get worn down. They become fragile.
And we’re really getting worn down.
The good news is, we’re not fucking delicate.
How many times have we collectively taken it on the chin? And how many times have we bounced back?
I know, in the U.S., we’re in the fight for our lives. I believe in us. Even if we’re feeling fragile now.
We’re not delicate.
Photo courtesy of Sonnenstrahl