between question and affirmation

"You're successful."

It was somewhere between a question and an affirmation.

"Yes." was my reply.

We will call him John. Ive barely known him. He seems to have formed opinions of me. I'm comfortable with this. His opinions seem positive.

"Do you feel guilty about your success?" This was a question. I think he thought he knew the answer.

No. I work hard." This is truth. "I feel guilty cause I know I can give more." This is also truth.

"I'm thankful. Its raining and its cold. I have a roof over my head, I have a bed, I have a job I love that provides for me. But on my way here I passed several homeless people with tarps and blankets and makeshift tents. Its raining and its cold. I could do more."

I tell John that last week a yoga instructor massaged my neck and shoulders and head while I was laying with my eyes closed at the end of class. It wasn't sexual. I longed for her touch. I realized how long it had been since I had been touched. After class I cried in my car.

I told John about an organization in Portland that meets on thursday nights under the Burnside Bridge. They provide food and blankets and warm clothes to the homeless population that gathers there. They bring large basins in and wash the feet and hair of these men and women. Most wouldn't give much thought to how long some of these people have gone without physical touch, without love, without truly being seen. Telling John almost makes me cry. I dont. Someone told me once if a baby doesn't get touched, doesn't get hugged and kissed and loved, it will die. I believe this. I could give more.

John told me a story about his neighbor. "A nice guy, very successful, very rich" a doctor or lawyer or something that required many years of college. John happened upon the neighbors biography online. It was full of volunteer work. It was full of humanitarian awards. His nice, successful, very rich neighbor gave more.

"You're successful." This time a statement.

"But you haven't lost yourself. You dont let your success go to your head. I dont think you ever will. My neighbor didn't either. The measure of success, wealth, celebrity, is what you do with it. You're on your way, you're aware. You are a good man." The last statement he said as if he knew I forgot sometimes.

John seemed proud of me. It was genuine. He barely knows me.

After we parted, I cried in my car.