The interstitials
Much of my life has been in transit. From new countries to new neighborhoods to new jobs and new social circles.
In each, I occupied a space. Never the complete space, just a space within a space.
Society has neat boxes within which to place us.
We are the colleague.
We are the neighbor.
We are the friend.
We are family.
We are lovers.
And what of those that don’t fit nicely? What of those that don’t perfectly occupy a space?
The acquaintance whose name you never remember, yet whose life you do.
The date that you warmed to but never warmed enough.
The occasional companion to your early morning coffee, present as often as absent.
They don’t occupy a complete space, like sand grains in soil. They don’t fall neatly into a category but neatly into the spaces between those that do.
Essential but overlooked.
Present until forgotten.
They are the interstitial ones.
…someone who falls into the interstices that exist between the social categories we rely upon so heavily to keep our lives agreeable and cute -
— Alanna Boudreau
Their presence enriches our lives and yet if one were to ask, their label undefinable. Like the space between heartbeats, unnoticed until absent. Like the gaps between words that give language meaning or the very sand between each rock that smoothens our walk.
Think long and hard, you will know them.
When next you see them, offer them a chance to join you in festive celebration.
Don’t ask if they have plans.
Don’t let them concoct one when there might be none.
Instead, offer them a space if there’s space to be offered.
That offer of space will not be forgotten.
It will occupy their mind, in spaces between — A gentle warmth they’ll remember.
I often find myself the interstitial. As someone that’s traveled and never quite settled, my social circle feels small and scattered across geographies. I have been invited before and while I often said no, I remember those invitations fondly.
I was inspired to write this after stumbling across a LinkedIn post by Alanna Boudreau.
I couldn't get it out of my mind, for it stuck there at the interstice of my synapses.