At various times in my life, I've come to the realization that I'm one of them. When I wore a pleated skirt and penny loafers, when I donned woodland camouflage, when I carried one child in my arms and led another by the hand, I was one of them. I became a member of a group, of a class of a sect, and that membership led me to a new realization of who and why I am. I correlate these realizations with what I consider to be chapters in my life. They are segments that make up the whole, or whole parts if you will. Thus, once again, I'm one of them. A new self identified with an other that contributes to my whole.
On weekdays, I dress sensibly, pack a lunch and travel to work. White ear buds account for my bobbing head as I work on my laptop, sipping coffee from a pink thermos on the way there. When I arrive to the world class City I work in, I trek along the Embarcadero, passing by a postcard scene, that tourists awe, and inhabitants cherish. It's that kind of town, and I go there 5 days a week.
I get to my office, where I write emails, return phone calls and take meetings. Most days, I eat lunch at my desk, but sometimes I traverse from one ethnic district to another for something both interesting yet common to the locale. As I perform my work, I draw from a culmination of experience, knowledge and skills, all the while gratified that I can do such things.
At the end of the day, I trek back to my way home, to a suburban existence. I read my favorite magazine, watch a video on my computer and on Fridays enjoy a beverage. Upon arriving, I'm one of many who cross an intersection to the parking lot where we park our cars.
We all carry computer bags, talk to our loved ones on cell phones and repeat the ritual over and over again. And thus, I realize, I am one of them.