Alone with a paper airplane

Outside my apartment and across the street is a community center and playground, with a big tree spreading it's branches across one entire corner of the basketball court. I went out today and noticed one child in a red coat braving the cold wind and snow to play.
I was struck by two distinct thoughts, how sad and how brave. How brave that he is comfortable being out there alone, his desire to enjoy a day off is enough that he is enough company for his adventures. How sad that he is alone, that his parents did not join him, that he had no friends or siblings willing to brave the forces of nature to explore life's adventure.
As I watched him throw a paper airplane over and over I felt another post grow in my mind.
He is young enough that the shorter and more unpredictable the plane's flight was, the harder he tried to throw it the next time, not understanding that the harder you throw a paper plane the more erratic it's flight becomes; the best launch of paper is a gentle toss into the breeze. In the few minutes I observed the red-clad warrior his plane flew into the trees reaching fingers twice, and twice he had to jump to catch bits of twig tugging until his aeronautic friend was released. Yet he did not stray from his chosen spot to one free of grasping twiggy fingers, he stood his ground and journeyed on.
How often do we approach life in the same way? We struggle and fight and persevere, convinced that if we just fight hard enough and stand in the place we have chosen that "things" will take off. The harder the battle, the harder the toss. Why don't we know already that it will just result in a more erratic course? Might not life's struggles be the same as that bit of paper? Maybe if we simply re-adjust the wings and ballast a bit, and move away from those things that grasp and cling and pull us down, our flight will be true.
My goal this month is now to watch for the branches hanging in my path and to lift my own small wings into the wind and let them soar; no thrusting, no shoving, no strong arm tactics.
Just breathe and be.
Farewell Dave, I will miss you.

Laundromats and Bars

Have you ever wondered about the profound difference between laundromats and bars?
I mean other than the obvious of course. Hear me out. Windows. Windows tell us so much.

• Bars typically have few or no windows and are dimly lit
• Laundromats almost always have at least one wall that is all glass and are brightly lit.

• Bars, sorry worked in enough I can say this with conviction, smell pretty bad.
• Laundromats tend to smell fresh and warm.

• Bar floors tend to be dark, cement or wood, and range from dull to sticky.
• Laundromat floors tend to bright or white, linoleum, and range from shiny to passably clean.

So I started thinking a bit more about the whys and whens of adventuring to each. Down and dirty first response is we go to bars to loose track of ourselves for a while; we go laundromats to clean the fabric of our lives. It seems obvious how we feel about each as a society and in general when we think about which we are allowed to view others doing without participating ourselves.

So I wonder why? Is there something wrong with wanting to get away from it all and loose track of time; should I really think about the atmosphere of the establishments I choose to go to, select from the few that have windows and good lighting and shiny clean floors?

Why am I okay with the world watching me wash my lingerie? Why do I assume that a laundromat with few windows and dimmer lighting is not clean, is someplace I don't want to take my clothes to get clean?

All of which is not relevant to a great many things I know, but at times following the tracks my mind wanders down really makes me explore how I view things and people; keeping an open mind is important to me. I'm not even saying I hate all bars or love all laundromats.

I think what I have realized is simply that society has set standards for many things, regardless of what I or anyone else may think. Sometimes these standards effect us in ways we may not expect. Sometimes these standards can mislead us if we are not paying attention.

Recently my hubby changed laundromats to one closer to us. It seemed quaint, clean, well cared for. We have noticed little tears in some of our clothing that from sad past experience we know may well come from poorly maintained dryers. So we will be on the search for another 24 hr laundromat that loves our clothes as much as we do, at least until we have a home with our own washer and dryer again.