I was traveling from rural Massachuetts to Chicago. I had taken a job here. My family hadn’t moved yet. I lived in a hotel and went home every other weekend. I knew everyone in the hotel. When it was possible, they gave me the same bedroom every time that I returned.

One boy who worked security was going to Junior College. I helped him with his Algebra every night between 11pm and midnight The folks in the restaurant became my surrogate family. I often stayed past closing. We had conversations about our lives and about how we came to be the people that we are.

One person who worked in the restaurant was going through some particularly hard times. She was weathering them well. One night after the closing, we stayed talking well into the time when the rest of the city was asleep. It was below freezing outside, and the conversation was warm.

My friend, Gina, told about her mother who had died. I told her about mine. We talked about our brothers. We exchanged notes on our respective only children. We shared a mother’s care and a mother’s pride.

Then she told me about her guilt — how she had let the whole world down. Wow, that was my thought, she’s let me down and I didn’t even know it. This generous lady who was always smiling. had let down the whole world. Wait until the world found out. Her life, as she knew it, was so over.

Those words are exactly what I told her.

She said, “You don’t understand. I had to sell some of my mom’s furniture and get a second mortgage on my mom’s house. It was the only option, but my brother is furious.”

I said, “I understand. In the way that only humans can, you seem to have gotten stuck in how the problem is about you and the whole world. I don’t know another way to say this, but the whole world isn’t thinking about you.”

“What?”

“The whole world doesn’t need to you to be feeling guilty.”

“I get that, but I still do.”

“Do you see a time in the future that you will be happy again?”

“Of course I do.”

“Can I make you happy?”

“No, no one can.”

“But you will be?

“YES!”

“So there will be a point in the future at which you will decide that you have felt guilty long enough and you’ll allow yourself to be happy again?”

[silence — thinking]

“So, why wait? Why not just give yourself permission to be happy now? You’ve got no reason to beat yourself up. It really was your only choice, even I can see that. Wait six months or do it now, at some point you’re going to give yourself permission to be happy.”

[silence — thinking — smile] “I’m going to do it now. I hereby give myself permission to be happy.”

“I always knew you were a clever one.”

“Let’s have a glass of wine before you head out in the cold.”

She still has permission.

. . .

It really is about permission, isn’t it?

–ME “Liz” Strauss