The Softest Space

Ms. Joiner’s office was the softest space.

Ms. Joiner herself was thin and angular. The walls were painted cinderblock. The floor was linoleum tiles. Overhead were drop-ceiling tiles and fluorescent lights. The furniture was a standard schoolroom table, chairs and a bookcase, maybe a teacher’s desk, but that’s all I remember. Nothing soft in the room, but so soft for me.

Ms. Joiner was the school counselor at Montgomery Elementary School in 1974. Fourth grade felt frightening and cold. I had one real friend, but I’d just moved to another school, so I didn’t have as much contact with her. I struggled to find a new real friend, or a place or a rhythm. I was probably depressed, though it wasn’t diagnosed.

I remember that Ms. Joiner and I would sometimes play board games, though I can’t remember which ones. I don’t remember any words of wisdom or even any words at all, but she was nice to me. She was real with me. I could talk about things. There were things happening in my life then that were difficult, but I don’t think I talked much about those things. With so little that I remember, it’s amazing that Ms. Joiner stands out for me as an important and grounding soft space, but she does.

Today it’s easy to get lost in all of the ways I am failing, the people I didn’t check in on, the things that fall between the cracks, the posts I didn’t comment on or like, the birthdays and anniversaries I forgot. But, like most of you, I simply cannot have the details of everyone’s life on my calendar. It isn’t reasonable, but it somehow feels like it should be. Sometimes when I start beating myself up with the failure bat, I remember Ms. Joiner.

The Ms. Joiner I carry with me is her way of being genuine, accepting and honest. There were no grand or heroic acts. Just her presence made me feel seen and safe.

That is something I can do.

It doesn’t necessarily require extra time from my schedule or money from my bank account, but it might require some attention. It might be looking someone in the eye and smiling or noticing someone with packages and holding a door. It can simply be one human being meeting another human being right where they are and letting it all be okay for just a moment.