Some measure of progress

Went to a place I've never been before to sing some karaoke last night. Someone I met the last time I ventured out to do that was hosting for her first time. It started and ended early. This is a good thing and a safety measure that should have helped prevent the hangover and wasted morning I'm experiencing now. 

An amber alert just arrived on my phone. A car was stolen from a parking lot. There was a 3 year old autistic child wearing an Easter egg tee shirt in the car. I can feel for a moment the cold abject horror of the person responsible for that child, the silent disoriented tension of the child, and the panic of the thief when he realizes what he's set in motion.

I made an instant judgment upon walking into that bar. These are not my people. The faces didn't seem friendly. There was an entire male rugby team in the house. 

Once things began, I got to sing several songs and after each one made more friends. It became easy to talk. The quality of the faces changed. There was a mother and daughter sitting together. Mom was in her late fifties and daughter probably in her early 30s. The mom had kind of spiked died blonde hair. I thought she was a girl I went to high school with who I hadn't seen in 40 years, but she was not. The three of us joked and flirted a little. Her daughter appeared to have had multiple augmentations. It was a little surreal. 

Mom is a visiting hospice nurse. This may have something to do with why her resting face is so deeply lined and sad. She deals with the dying everyday. I told her how much in-home hospice helped a friend of mine who died too young. We talked about a common interest in becoming death doulas some day. Being there to support someone through their actual death. I admired her.

But she was also afraid she said. If it weren't for her daughter being in from out of town, she wouldn't have left her house. Pieces of airliners falling off, random senseless violent crime, illegal immigrants. Only Trump can save us now, she said. 

I nearly laughed, but she wasn't joking. She had that frightened, programmed look about her that I've seen before. Her daughter tried to stop her from saying anymore. I told her I couldn't agree with her choice or her reasoning behind it but suggested a truce. She agreed and we laughed. I returned to my seat across the room. 

I didn't feel the usual rush of anger and exasperation I normally feel when something like this occurs, but it certainly felt surreal. We continued to talk to each other at different points. They came and hugged me when lt was time for them to go. Somehow I was friends with most everyone in the room by midnight. Something is definitely shifting.