in-Between Spaces

Deborah Ladd, Guest Blogger

I heard a someone say that, "We the people of the United States,
in order to form a more perfect union..." must come together.
How many ways can we do this in a seemingly graceless time?
Sometimes it’s in the work place. 

On the very last day I walked towards 
the final closing of the door behind me.
I was moving more towards my future in front of me,
rather than the memories behind me.
But I was holding on in that moment.
Then I realized that I would miss
the more perfect “unions” of the people and their lives …bittersweet.

Maya Angelou once said that,
”…you remember the way people make you feel.”
Yes, you see I remembered how I felt 
right at the intersection of those in between moments
I guess you can call it a “union”.

We unite in those in between spaces, 
that fall in and out if time.
It was in the stories told about the weekends and vacations.
It was in the soft wave of a hello or in a simple smile, 
perhaps a gift, a hug, the sharing of photos, 
the abrupt closing of an office door, a shoulder to sometimes lean on or cry on.
It was in births and graduations, weddings and funerals, office parties,
the frequent uttering of joy and despair, defeat and 
the celebrations of living, and then celebrations of lives no longer lived.

Sometimes there were cursings of anger, tears of joy.
Nothing but people …us forming a more "perfect union”...every single day.
I shall mention a few…

An Iowan, farm raised, family person, 
smart, hard-working, dignified, compassionate.

An East Indian living in a beautifully arranged marriage 
for thirty plus years who explained the caste system 
and the reverence of the Hindu religion.

The Nigerian, a mastermind of numbers and figures, 
proud of tribal roots, children and family.

The Cuban, a naturalized United States citizen whose parents worked hard 
escaping communism and creating a new reality in America.

The American Southerner, a part of the Great Migration 
via Chicago to Los Angeles, a class act, a powerful, sophisticated lady.


The Egyptian Goddess, loving, caring, 
whose ancestral smile reminded me of some of my own history.

A local grown man, flag waving, a military man,
a proud, brave courageous man, loving his country.

A Korean, a loving husband, a courageous man 
who traveled through the uncertainties in life.

And when the person from Downey spoke
it was of her family, her rock.

The Filipina raised in Hawaii whose mom shared her story 
of being a young girl who lived through the Pearl Harbor bombing.

The person with Chinese roots who remembered 
to teach his family to never, ever forget culture,
his photo wall proudly displaying his life.

To the one born in East Los Angeles rooted in Latino culture, 
taking care of an aging parent and raising family.

And the Armenian remembering her life and ancestors 
who escaped daily bombings,
she worked hard to make America home.

Are these Americans?
Yes, these are Americans.
This is America but not whose America?

In order to form a more perfect union 
we must connect to our own humanity, 
to the you in me, the me in you.
‘Cause we love like that in those in between moments,
in and out of time.
No limits.
A more perfect union.
The union of love with love.

For in the beauty of the spaces and places where they lived or may have lived,
I saw their beauty in living colors, in living cultures, in time, in life.

The love between us is celebrated in the in between moments where you and I really live. 
Yes, I think I I have enjoyed more perfect unions…
...I know that I have loved.

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