I used to think that there were two ways of looking at the world.
Only two ways
When I was younger, my aunt and uncle would come and visit us.
We would go out, do this and that. Tiddle around town, doing things that don’t really matter.
Have fun, eat some dinner, pack our things and go home to bed.
Simple days, easy days.
We went to the park once, my aunt and my uncle, my grandma and grandpa, my mom, dad, brother, three cousins and me.
My mother drove one car, my uncle the other.
And my aunt and my dad sat shotgun.
My aunt and my uncle looked out the window and saw clouds on the horizon.
The deep dark purple clouds
Of rain and lightning and thunder.
Magnificent and deadly, elegant and gorgeous.
Deep indigo and purple and just a tiny hint of red.
My uncle, he says it will rain. Look at those clouds,
bearing down on us. How could it be anything else?
My aunt, however, looks to the other side of the sky.
The blue, happy, clear sky where the sun is shining and and the birds are chirping and everything is as it should be.
She says, you see?
Look at that side of the sky, why
There’s no hint of rain or pain.
Just clear days and breezy ways.
So for the longest time I grew up thinking there were two ways of looking at the world.
My uncle’s way, the way of difficulty and acceptance
And my aunt’s way, the way of simplicity and denial.
But that couldn’t be more wrong.
I find it’s a blend.
Some days, I think like my aunt.
I look at the best in people and only see that. I ignore the rest of the ugliness and pain and hardship.
I believe in the good, like I should.
And some days, I think like my uncle.
I think that no matter how much good there is,
there will always be that ugly cloud.
No matter how innocent or naive or kind people might be
There are the people who are not. The people who deserve to die.
And it makes me cry.
There is a poster I have in my room,
It’s a green-blue color, with a man with a hat.
And he’s walking, just walking, just like that.
The poster says: Today will be a good day.
Do I believe that poster?
Well, do you?