Waiting to Turn Green

Lunch was fun. I didn’t feel like cooking. It was lovely to see smiley faces greeting me.
“How did you like your food?”
“Would you care for more nan?
“Would you like your usual seat?”

On the drive home while waiting for a stop light to turn green, I wondered how I allowed myself to impose on others to carry the burden of giving me permission to breathe, to live. What was I thinking? Did I ask anyone if they consciously cared to carry this weight of me, to dedicate their every waking moment to paying attention to me, positive or negative regardless?