Old Memories, Old Wounds

Today was a really bad day. Well, this whole week has been bad, actually. Someone from my past who hurt me has come back, aiming to stir up trouble and it's worked. I am, unfortunately, a slave to my past and I'm doing my darndest on this other continent to try and hide. But I've realized that you can't hide from your past, you can only confront it, head on. If you're strong enough, you can let it go. I'm working on it.

But this unwelcome visitor has left me rattled. I've been emotionally vulnerable. And to make matters worse, with my emotions at the surface, I am susceptible to everything that comes my way. Tonight, an old man in the tube station with a giant hearing aid and a cane hobbled up to the platform near me. I was praying he wouldn't talk to me. One look at him and memories of everyone I've ever loved who have gone away hit me square in the face. But out of everyone around him, who did he approach? Me, of course. "Is this the train to Edgware?" he asked?

"No, I replied, "it's to Stanmore."

"Yes, yes, Stanmore," he said.

This went on a few minutes, as he'd say Edgware one minute then Stanmore the next. I wasn't sure if he was confused or just saying the wrong name but meaning the right location. No matter, it got to me. I was holding his arm, and trying to reassure him. He said thank you and walked off, and I cried all the way home.