Have you ever met one of those lonely old people who are willing to talk to anyone who happens to wander into their life? They don’t care if you had the wrong address and knocked on their door by mistake. They still ask you to come in, to have a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade or a plate of homemade gingersnaps, to stay and chat awhile.
That’s how I feel when I check to see how people found my blog. I don’t care that they found their way by accident while looking for something completely different. (Usually they are searching for Omar Khayyam’s quatrain about the moving finger, but why are so many people interested in that, all of a sudden? And why come to me? I did finally post that quatrain for these visitors so they wouldn’t go away empty-handed or empty-headed, but still, there are other sites where they could have found it.) At any rate, I’m glad that someone, anyone came knocking on my blog’s door. I just wish I had some lemonade to offer them, or a plate of fresh-baked cookies. Probably would get more traffic if I did, but I have yet to figure out how to send gingersnaps through cyberspace.
In light of this, I’m sure you can imagine how I felt when I got a comment about one of my posts. Like I was a celebrity or something. A person I had never met read what I wrote, and liked it.
In the end isn’t that what we’re all looking for, whether we’re young or old, lonely or befriended? Aren’t we all looking for someone to acknowledge us? Someone to see us as apart from all the other billions of people in the world, even if only for a moment? We writers and bloggers spew out billions, trillions of sentences each day, and every single one of them says the same thing: “Notice ME.”
Well, for a single blip of time, I was noticed.