Same, Same I still haven’t figured out how to make delicious tea or poha, or how to respond instead of react. “Same, same,” a mommy-friend says over a playdate. A reassurance of sorts. Maybe the world doesn’t need more people doing Pilates or drinking from Stanley cups. Maybe it does not need more people making more money or wasting less time. Maybe the world needs real people to reach those who feel alone in the messiness of their lives. Maybe the world needs people who impress less and connect more. To share one simple yet profound message: “Same, same.” Five Minutes I am almost home. But I don’t go in. I wait in my building lobby. I slump into the leather armchair. Stay awhile. Soak in the sunlit garden. Watch the branches of one tree lush with green leaves. And another tree, half-bare, its slender branches stretching out in…
