My open office door offers no resistance to the conversational cacophony created by Spanish-speakers, Russian-speakers, Spirit speakers, etc. who congregate on microfiber sofas in anticipation of the next meeting, the next cell phone interruption, the next encounter with a fellow consultant.
Sometimes I cringe . . . wondering if a head will peek around the corner, earnestly seeking me out, wanting matched enthusiasm or needed empathy. Sometimes I don't have the words . . . whatever the language may be . . . to serve their cause. I sit quietly, relishing the silent keyboard that allows me to seek out volume-less conversations . . . online and behind the veil of www.
And when those gathered finally depart, I breathe -- not realizing that I've held my breath as I've hid away from their jovial, Spirit-filled handshakes, hugs and salutations.
Sometimes I'm an introvert trapped in an extrovert's reputation. Sometimes I want to close the door.
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