There are occasions in life where we find ourselves situated at places where we never thought we'd find ourselves to be.
These are places that we think have little (or nothing) to do with us. These are places that few of us will actively seek out. And even though it might have been that we'd been aware of it, even though it might have been that we'd ventured past it, or that we'd known someone who knew of it, still, nothing beats the actual emotions that beset you when you realize you're actually there.
It is a long story as to how I found myself sitting at the one and only bus stop directly opposite this place- but short of dedicating an entirely new blog to the story- let's just say that the reasons were complicated, the situations were chaotic and that me being here was putting a closure to the results of all the chaos and the complications.
So it sounds like I'm going in circles, but I can assure you I'm not.
That's really how it is.
I never thought that those flying flags would have anything to do with me. I never thought that I'd need to bother what those flying flags represented or what they were intended to be. And, I never thought that they would even mean anything to me.
But now they do.
A symbol of many things they are- structure, system, family, friends, closure, order, chaos, possibility, community, loss, new beginnings, regret, fear, tiredness, confusion, loneliness, shame, isolation, uncertainty, discomfort, embarrassment, judgment, anger, resilience, worry.
Have they been there for a long time? Maybe.
Have they been there ever since time immemorial? Maybe
Sitting there at the bus stop on that hot, sunny afternoon, I looked at the walls and thought about their history and their purpose. Built in the 1930s thereabouts, here they have been for more than 70 years, serving a singular purpose, serving a singular goal. I thought about the goal, I thought about the people who were in there, and the people who worked there, and then I thought about the people those in there had left behind.
We don't talk about it often but the pain isn't just of the one who is in there, but also of the one who is left behind.
The journey isn't easy.
It never is.
And the list, comprehensive as it is, is long, and can grow longer still.
Which is why I know that there are always new perspectives to be gleaned, and those perspectives- even as the years pass and the world changes- will probably not end.
By the way, from time to time, I found myself thinking of Croatia. Not Poland, not Czechoslovakia, not even Ukraine or Hungary. Just Croatia.
Don't ask me why.
These are places that we think have little (or nothing) to do with us. These are places that few of us will actively seek out. And even though it might have been that we'd been aware of it, even though it might have been that we'd ventured past it, or that we'd known someone who knew of it, still, nothing beats the actual emotions that beset you when you realize you're actually there.
It is a long story as to how I found myself sitting at the one and only bus stop directly opposite this place- but short of dedicating an entirely new blog to the story- let's just say that the reasons were complicated, the situations were chaotic and that me being here was putting a closure to the results of all the chaos and the complications.
So it sounds like I'm going in circles, but I can assure you I'm not.
That's really how it is.
I never thought that those flying flags would have anything to do with me. I never thought that I'd need to bother what those flying flags represented or what they were intended to be. And, I never thought that they would even mean anything to me.
But now they do.
A symbol of many things they are- structure, system, family, friends, closure, order, chaos, possibility, community, loss, new beginnings, regret, fear, tiredness, confusion, loneliness, shame, isolation, uncertainty, discomfort, embarrassment, judgment, anger, resilience, worry.
Have they been there for a long time? Maybe.
Have they been there ever since time immemorial? Maybe
Sitting there at the bus stop on that hot, sunny afternoon, I looked at the walls and thought about their history and their purpose. Built in the 1930s thereabouts, here they have been for more than 70 years, serving a singular purpose, serving a singular goal. I thought about the goal, I thought about the people who were in there, and the people who worked there, and then I thought about the people those in there had left behind.
We don't talk about it often but the pain isn't just of the one who is in there, but also of the one who is left behind.
The journey isn't easy.
It never is.
And the list, comprehensive as it is, is long, and can grow longer still.
Which is why I know that there are always new perspectives to be gleaned, and those perspectives- even as the years pass and the world changes- will probably not end.
By the way, from time to time, I found myself thinking of Croatia. Not Poland, not Czechoslovakia, not even Ukraine or Hungary. Just Croatia.
Don't ask me why.