I was at the zoo last week and observed the other moms; [honestly, subconsciously pretty much wherever I am I look for my kind.] If my brain doesn't mean to do it, my heart does it anyway.
Someone like me.
I can usually tell- we all wear a uniform- and in this sea of criticizing eye squints, teeny tiny yoga-classed-fit bodies in skinny jeans and trendy tops with their designer diaper bags and matching children,
who I used to be. I used to play that part. We all do in some way. If we fake it then maybe people will believe it. Maybe we'll even start to believe it ourselves.
I felt a little melancholy and I felt alone.
Then I thought, what if I'm the one that people are searching for in the crowd, to find their kind?
They'll see many imperfections, and many good intentions, [and- obvs- many insecurities] and feel like