I went to a cafe this morning and ran this evening. This is what I thought when I ran.
Very near my table were two men clinging onto their 40's in suitably conservative striped shirts, socks that are too bright and both had shaved heads because they have to. They both wear glasses that were designed with "aspiration" as their primary aesthetic. They say things like "twenty k" and "five mil" and "hard engineering" and "shifting units". I feel no connection to them.
There were two women in their 70's sitting in front of me. One is wearing a mint green top the other a light blue top of exactly equal shade and from a shop that must sell only these type of clothes to only these women. They went to the same hairdresser on the same day and asked for matching designs. They appear to be expressing distaste for whoever has left their church recently. I don't understand them.
In the corner, among the toys, sat three women in their late twenties. Each of them is a slightly different shade of orange and they each have yellow hair. They are nattering over each other as if in competition. There are four toddlers, oblivious to everything except the toy in front of them. I don't know the subject of their conversation but it appears to change by the minute. No one is doing any listening.
There is a man and woman sitting in the far corner. Their eyes are fixed on each other. Both are married although quite obviously not to each other. He is sitting upright trying to force his stomach in and his chest out. He is animated, strutting, displaying. She is laughing too loudly at his jokes and keeps fiddling with her neckline. Twice she leant forward, lowered her voice and whispered something whilst touching his knee. In response he swept his eyes from side to side in a mock "are we being watched" way and responded to her enquiry with a confession, causing more giggles. They are a million miles from me.
I could be their ghost, haunting them all if I could be bothered. Any second now someone will walk over to me and sit through me onto the chair below.
As the cafe got busier and the volume rose and rose individual voices became a murmur in a formless swarm. The busier it became the more formless the drone and the more distant I became. I put my head into my hands, closed my eyes and focused with all the energy I could to single out one voice. I was throwing a lifeline to anyone to connect to but, at what felt like the end of my search, there was no one to pull me back. I was free-falling.
I started to leave when an elderly woman approached me with a warm and genuine smile and asked to share the table as it was so busy. In an instant I was thrown into human connectedness again by the six second relationship she offered me. There were businessmen doing a deal, old friends catching up on the gossip, new friends sharing parenting tips and a flirty couple helping each other feel fun and desirable again. That woman brought me back.
Twenty five years ago I read Mayo Angelou's biography "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings". She died one year ago this morning at around the same time I listened to a radio programme about the history of the anti-lynching song "Strange Fruit" brought to life by Billie Holiday. I have always known Angelou as the caged bird, with bound feet and clipped wings imprisoned by white oppression, black disempowerment and violence. I know she sings for freedom, for her rights, for dignity, for love. But I never understood WHY the caged bird sings. Until today. It is obvious- the caged bird sings because it has to. The caged bird can't not sing. It doesn't sing because of desire, because it wants to, it sings because it has no choice, it is compelled to sing.
I can feel caged by my grief. It can imprison me. But I still sing because I have to. I sing for human contact, for warmth, for mental rest, for hope. And that stranger in the cafe, just for a moment, set me free.
