Last Saturday Paul and I dealt with some property management tasks in Oakland together.  I was happy to be out in the world doing something constructive with Paul. When we finished, he ran into Piedmont Grocery while I swung into Peets.  Saturday. Game day. I was wearing my CAL tee shirt and “Big C” ball cap.  While waiting for my beans to be ground, a cheerful older woman approached me.  Slim, elegant haircut, dressed in youthful Lulu hiking capris, SPF blouse, groovy hiking shoes, classy hat, beaded bracelets reeking of “souvenir from a recent African safari”, iphone headphones tucked into her ears, she reminded me of my favorite neighbor or a could-have-been friend of my mom’s.  “Does Cal have a home game today?” she asked as if we were old friends.  “Are you going?”  I opened my mouth to speak, gulped, nothing came out. I nodded stupidly, shook my head, and eventually choked, “No. Not going.”

I am off my game.  If I were on my game, I would be chatting her up and connecting with her.  By the time I had my beans and she had her coffee, we might even linger on the sidewalk finishing our thoughts on a shared connection.

Inspired by a character in a recently read memoir, I have recently been pushing myself to be a more enthusiastic participant in the world.  My ventures to the drycleaner, the bank, the coffee shop have come with a genuine interest in creating a connection with people, with my community, with my world.  “My” world, turned “our” world.  It’s an appreciation for the person doing a thankless or boring job. Camaraderie with the person enduring the post office line. I would normally be like this woman.

But I’m not that person right now.  I could barely offer a panicked smile not to scare her when I gulped my feeble response. I am not ready for these interactions.  My behavior is unpredictable.  That is the main reason I am at Peet’s in Oakland, not Orinda, and at Piedmont Grocery, not Diablo Foods.  I don’t trust myself out in the world.  I am not myself out in the world.  I am not myself anywhere right now.  I caught myself wondering if I should tell her that we might have gone to the Cal game, but our son just died. That we almost went because John’s friends had come into town and were at the game together.  Multiple friends had invited us to their tailgates, the game.  Would this friendly woman be interested in hearing that the reason we weren’t going to the game is because I wasn’t ready yet?  Because I was still too sad and scared to do something like this?

I found myself thinking of her later.  She was of that age, that age where she most likely had lost a few friends.  She was alone, so maybe she had already lost her spouse.  Her parents most certainly were gone.  Maybe she had lost a sibling already, or a brother to war long ago.  She most likely would not have made it to her age without suffering some sort of loss.  It is going to happen.  And it is going to happen more frequently.  It’s going to happen to the people we love, not just to other people.

I am definitely off my game. I want my regular self back, but I think it’s going to be a while.