Women with husbands, women with women, some with children, crying, laughing, shouting; adults renewing memories through the little people they have brought forth; others reliving a tarnished life with a new brush of color. Women with men, women alone, some happy, some not so much; men with other men, with or without children, dogs, cats. Men alone. Some are overwhelmed and travel circles to reach their destination; others rearrange condiments to align with the alphabet of choosing, sure and certain and quiet.
All the lives are hauntingly the same apart from the noise level and degree of participation. Even those alone dream the same dreams, desire interchangeable desires—a wanting for love and laughter, for comfort and safety, a longing to be heard, encouraged, and adored—passion, once foremost on the list, now a secondary consideration overshadowed by a vast wanting to be known and embraced for the I in i.
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