And it's a lonely world, I know…

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I stayed awake most of last night worrying.

There should be a word for the worries that plague a person at night but dissipate, like a murder of crows, when the sun comes up.

I worry about being the last one left.  This is just such a strange world, new souls coming in and old souls popping out; it's like being stranded in Grand Central Station.

I suppose the best strategy would be to enjoy the presence of whoever shares your bench without becoming too attached to either them or the bench.

That's especially difficult at two in the morning.  It's hard to think of your life as a bench that empties, one by one, until you're the only one left, staring at your ticket.

It's a little easier when the sun is up and the flowers are blooming, when the sparrows are hopping around under the feeder,  fragrant incense is burning on the mantle, a warm cup of coffee is in your hand.

But just a little.

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