Sharing

Andy has gymnastics on Wednesdays.

He absolutely loves his class. He might cry when I leave him with Lillian or Steve, and he might wail when I leave him in the child care room at church, but at gymnastics he runs right up to the teacher and walks away without turning around. Although he does wave to me every five or ten minutes. "Hi Mom!"

I cherish this time because, I am ALL ALONE! I have no other child to watch, so I am free to pay attention to Andy's antics, to chat with other mothers, and to use the restroom without company.

Today, a woman settled in next to me and started talking. I had never seen this woman before, nor had I noticed her son who she assured me has always been in the 3-year old class. By the end of the forty five minute class, however, I knew quite a bit about her.

I know that she works in retail and would rather be in bed to sleep as much as she can before Black Friday. I know she used to have a really great job in the midwest, but the company closed, and thank goodness she was renting, not buying. I know that her mother is planning on moving in with her next year, and that she sometimes keeps her son up until ten. I know certain details about her divorce, including how much child support her husband pays and how many hours he works. I know facts about her cervical cancer, her menstrual cycle, the biopsy she's soon to have, that she's getting her tubes tied, and that she had words with the nurse who kept asking "are you sure you want to do this?"

You think I'm joking, but I'm not.

Part of me thinks this woman was totally inappropriate, and is half afraid she will track me down and insist we become best friends, because why else would you share those details?

But another part of me thinks she might not have been able to help herself. There have been times when I've found myself in the middle of some story with a person while at a class or in a line, and I think "I should not be sharing this with anyone." But another part of me thinks it feels good to talk about it. And who is this other person? Probably someone I will never see again. I don't have the time to develop a relationship slowly until we reach the level of intimacy where it would be appropriate to talk about how often I shower. I have to jump right in, or these things will remain unspoken!

I may never see this woman again. Her son also does soccer, and his father usually brings him, anyway. I know quite a bit about this woman, you see. Except her name.