As I get older I talk less and less.
….about my baggage.
There is some baggage that’s easy to claim. The nice stuff. The baggage where we triumph, the baggage where we learn to become the hero. That nice, rolling kind with the rotating 360 degree wheels. It’s easy for me to talk to strangers and to you, readers, about this kind of baggage. Going through a year of weekly therapy sessions. My late friend, and his accident. It’s easy to talk about things, but for some reasons, other things…
…it’s just not.
There’s some baggage I just can’t fit into the overhead compartment of my life.
I notice that, when I talk to people, there are some times when I’m omitting words. The unsaid, the vague insinuations, an implicit lie of omission. I rationalize, “Nobody needs to know that.“
I don’t know. Maybe they do. Maybe they really do.