Listen

Interrupted routines, illnesses, homeowner woes, same old same old financial crap- all of it has been coalescing, causing me to retreat into isolation, enjoying those moments when everyone else is busy and I am listening to music while sawing at spare tires. (Pictures to come later)

Yesterday, the boys and I decided to run around one of the IU parks for a change of pace before heading home for tire cutting and general putzing. I remember locking the car doors as we left our illegally parked car, but gave no further thought to the keys until we were heading back to the car after run/walking about one mile together, half of which was an unplanned mission to recover Carter’s missing quarter, which turned out to be (deep breaths) in. his. pocket.

At this moment, I realized I had no car keys. Despite Kevin’s alternate demands and hypnotic urgings, “where did you last see the keys?” “When did you last use them?” I couldn’t conjure the slightest idea where they might be. Kevin watched the boys as I set off across campus to check various lost and founds and rustle bushes and landscaping for the lost keys.

After three lost and founds and another lap around the park, keyless, I trudged back to deliver the bad news. I briefly wished for my ipod, locked in the car, so I could at least cheer myself with some Aimee Mann. Instead, I eavesdropped on the young man behind me.

Why? (pause) Because she’s my sister. I know her. (pause) You need to chill. (pause) She’ll be okay. (Pause) She’s just doing her thing. She’ll come around. (pause) Well that wins the award for most podunk stupidass country saying of the day. (laughter, and another pause) That’s hilarious (more laughter, another pause) Yeah. I miss you too, Mom. Love you.

Someday, my boys will love me enough to mock my neurosis. This stranger’s conversation uplifted me, reminded me of the connections in my life that matter more than keys. Later, I passed a woman from one of the lost and founds, and she asked me if I’d had any luck, and wished me well. We shared a smile. If my ipod had been available, I would have missed both connections. I might have scoffed at the writing scrawled across one campus sidewalk: Turn off the noise and listen to life for a while.

Someone with ear buds in is a walking boy in the bubble. Even if the courage is present to confront injustice through bus conversations, it won’t happen.

An ironic sidenote? I have Daniel Goleman’s social intelligence on my playlist.