Judging or Not Judging

The wine shop next door to the theatre
Suggests luxury, affluence, good taste,
People who know exactly what they want.

Right now, I only want comfort.

I upset her, and my need for a ride made her late.
I assumed it would work.
She helped me choose and hang a new curtain in my office.
I was grateful.
I hoped her annoyance might be followed with "no big deal."
But I left her car still feeling voiceless, guilty.

I'd felt judgment recently about a housemate.
She wasn't willing to budge in what seemed to me
A minor concession of convenience to kindness. I was angry.
Am I making demands, internally if not externally?
Am I playing holier than thou?
Would I act differently in their shoes? Could I be kinder?

I want to be compassionate, and I was today, at length,
With a friend who'd lost money on a real estate investment. (I've been there!)
Another friend treated me to lunch, and we talked easily
About books, exercise, friendship.
If it's such satisfaction for me to know I can always be myself with him,
What would it take to offer that same assurance, even guarantee,
To anyone, that who they are, how they are, does not need my approval.

My teen granddaughter could ignore me, and I would feel okay.
My accountability partner could point out an assumption I'd made,
And I'd matter of factly acknowledge her observation.
I could even let my lack of organization be no big deal,
My unread pile of old Wall Street Journals a part of my decorating,
My haphazardly stuffed refrigerator, a creative expression.

Here at the theatre, my last activity of this day,
These words I write comfort me.
They give me the satisfaction a child has in building a sand castle,
Not caring at all that it will soon lose its shape.
"Look, friends, see what I made.". . . "I can make another one!"