To My Dream Reader

Hey, you. Yeah, you!

But no pressure, right? As I browse through the postings from Blogging 101 — and with that, all the other delicious postings the Reader tells me about — I begin to think: my dream reader would be somebody who has the time to read. Or the patience. What a lot of words there are already in the world! So, Dream Reader, here’s what I’m thinking:

I won’t expect you to understand my life choices. Wow. When I read that possible prompt (“maybe your dad, so he’ll finally understand your life choices”), I had a moment’s almost dizziness. Imagine what it would be like to have someone — Dad, anybody — who understood your life choices. Imagine — for just a precious moment, say — what it would be like, being able to understand your life choices yourself. Oh, that would be something.  Reader, I don’t expect to understand your life choices either. That’s okay with me. Life choices are very confusing.

I am curious about them. Really, deeply so. And I hope you’re curious about mine. Even if just a little. In a kindly way. With willingness, if not identification. With interest and not aversion. With, well, patience. There might be something there.

I like new ideas. Hope you do too. Even better, I like new corroboration of my old ideas. Bet you do, too. And the old viewed from new angles, reader. I want you to like that too, because I do. And I send out my pictures and perceptions with some hope they might tickle some sense of recognition, of mirth, or compassion, or just  plain interest.

Reader, you and I, we face each other, in a kind of blindness, getting glimpses of this and that. When I read something, I hope it will add to my day — maybe my life — and if I only could, I’d be that for you too.