Don’t expect applause, but wouldn’t it be welcome at the end of an ordinary day? The kind of day where you decided to do everything differently. Decided to make the bed, sort the clothes, put love into the regular sandwich, not read the news. Wouldn’t it be welcome instead of more reasons to hate guns and be afraid every time Milo turns a stick into something he can aim and says "pow"?
Maybe I broke the stick over my leg this summer and scratched my own skin, watched the blood rise to the surface and congeal in a tiny river of regret on my pale upper thigh. Maybe I should have done it differently. Maybe I needed my own time out or "count to four" breath. But fear pushes my heart into my head and I cannot see. I just do. Just scream and run. Just feel afraid. I don’t want guns in my house, in my news stories, in my headlines. 47 automatic weapons carried into a hotel room. A hotel I know, I’ve seen, in a town of pleasure and indulgence. Everyone trying to sort out why this man did it. Maybe because of the silence, maybe there was a time he needed applause for an ordinary day.
What would happen if we lay out folding chairs for each other and celebrated our tiny successes; that moment we think of the person after us and wipe up the pool of water around the shared public bathroom sink. The moments we toss waste into the bin and then bend over to retrieve what missed the hole.
I almost stopped a man to say thank you for putting his butted out cigarette filter into the garbage can on Cole Street. It happened so quickly and Milo was in my hand so I missed the chance, but I told Milo my story of being grateful. Applause for the ordinary. It’s hard to start doing something different. I notice that every time I pack up one version of my life and set out on the adventure of finding a new one. It’s not nothing to decide for all of it to be unfamiliar. And it is so quiet. No one knows to give applause because they can’t see the ordinary acts. No one knows I asked my family to move the train set so I can do a bit of stretching. No one sees the tiny shift I’ve made with ruled lines in a notebook and a page that looks like a schedule.
I met someone at an airport who missed the applause we used to give when planes landed successfully. He was disappointed people are so blasé about the magic of flying now. He shared that when a plane lands he taps his pointer finger and thumb together in a tiny gesture of praise. I’m going to start doing that again.
inspired by Ellen Bass - Don't Expect Applause