Saturday, January 18, 2020

Are You Enough?

I went to the library today, as I do every Saturday afternoon in my pointless attempts at self-expression (got another 1100 words done on the next overlong "Dead & Breakfast" story).  When they flashed the lights to warn us that the library still closes ludicrously early on the one day people could stay later, I logged off the public computer and headed for my car, my mood as grey as the sky above.

In the corridor, however, I stopped.  Somebody had left a postcard-looking mural with a rainbow colors and the message "You are enough" on one of the walls.

I stopped and looked at it for a moment.

You are enough.  That was the whole message.  But what does that mean, exactly?

Well, I suppose it could be a song title or a line from a YA novel nobody over twenty has ever read.

It could also be PART of a message, one that continues elsewhere in the library (perhaps asking Bailee Aimes Donovan to the prom), but I was only seeing one of them, so it was totally out of context.

I guess it could mean that, despite my usual proclivity for banging skanky crystal meth-addicts I meet in truck stops and at Denny's at four am, well . . . you are enough to make me settle down, Melinda.

Or, it might mean that, the person it was meant for is this person's daughter or gay son, and gosh darn it, despite our differences, and the argument we had about global warming . . . you're okay in my book.

Or more probably, it's a phrase of encouragement, intended to say, "Hey, I know you're down on yourself, and feel like you'll be buried under the weight of your practically limitless failures . . . but you're still you, and that's pretty darn good."

Or, having noticed the web address conspicuously present on the art, it might mean that there's a website out there where you can create an image with whatever writing you like on it, print it out, and maybe inspire other people to do likewise.

Could be anything.

But for a moment there, as I trudged out to my car, thinking about that girl that recently makes me feel both childlike with wonder and unspeakably old, about the almost laughable history of mistakes in my past, and about the grim, Hieronymus Bosch-like future that awaits me, I wondered if, maybe . . . I was enough.

Enough to be happy.  Enough to be successful.  Enough to reach the finish line in some kind of position other than last place.

Some stranger wanted me to know that I'm not alone.  That he (or more likely, she) has felt the way I do, and is in my corner.  And if that's the case, then you know what?  YOU are also enough.

No matter what the bastards say.

No matter what you sometimes say.

We are enough.

And yeah, yeah, I looked it up, and its source is a website where you're supposed to create art, put a message with it, and then, and I quote, "Find a place to leave your art in public where someone else can find it.  Hopefully finding your art piece will be the highlight of that person's day!"  Then you're urged to post it to social media with a hashtag.  But you know, I'm going to choose to take it in the best possible spirit and think that there could still be a happy ending to this story called life, even if logic (and history) say otherwise.

Rish #sharingartmatters Outfield

No comments: