I was someone.

Photo via Unsplash by Edwin Andrade

So, I’m in Chicago.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say to the fourth, the fifth, the tenth stranger.

“I’m Bridget.”

It’s great. It’s WordCamp. It’s a community.

But they’re not my community.

They don’t know me.

They don’t know I was married for twenty-three years.

They don’t know I had a whole family.

They don’t know I was somebody.

“The world still is the same, you never change it
As sure as the stars shine above
Well, you’re nobody ’til somebody loves you
So find yourself somebody to love”
Russ Morgan, Larry Stock, and James Cavanaugh

They don’t know Mercier.

They don’t know I was loved.

I was cherished.

I was safe.

I was loved by someone.

I was someone.

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