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To Belong
By
Chris K. McComas
Three
people gather in a quiet corridor.
A fourth joins, then a fifth, asking,
"Do you want privacy? I can go."
"No, we're just hanging out," someone offers,
And the fifth breaks into a grin,
Shuffling from side to side, hands in his pockets:
"Good, I'll stay then."
A motley crew of outsiders,
Square pegs trying to fit into round holes,
Their common thread being the simple desire
To belong.
Acceptance,
kindness, hope: to one another and to us,
They extend these in abundance,
Wanting desperately to give, having nothing
But themselves, disorganized and frayed
One offers the staff ten million, claiming to be
A billionaire. Another volunteers to fix my car.
A third wants to give me a drawing she's made.
The people change from week to week,
But the needs are always the same:
To be needed, to be appreciated,
To belong.
Short-term
stays to manage the crisis;
Do we ever address the larger issues?
"I hate to leave; I've made so many friends here,"
One woman observes. At such times I sense
Their kinship, camaraderie- their connection.
What have we given them? Only this:
A safe environment where, sometimes,
Confidences are shared, truths spoken,
Feelings expressed, pretenses dropped.
A space
in which everyone can be themselves,
As crazy as that may seem.
A place where, in fleeting moments,
Everyone can belong.
Chris
K. McComas, ATR, practices art therapy on the inpatient
unit at Vencor Chicago North Hospital and teaches art to
children at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.
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