By and by, surprising offerings in life arise.
A phrase turns your heart in a way it hasn't been in what seems like infinity.
A book offers a new look at something very situational yet very significant to you.
Or perhaps, you are given an opportunity to be able to do a small thing for someone else.
An old friend from years ago came to my front door in a dark morning hour and took me to the airport. She simply said, "That's what friends are for." During a moment like that the words "Thank you" seem both necessary and crazy insufficient.
The plane landed in a mountain filled state. I waited to be picked up again. Bright blue skies and white snow sharply blazed the scene, but the air was pleasantly warm.
The sun was so blinding I could not keep my eyes open, nor could I turn away, so I stood facing the flashing sun and closing my eyes, only peering with a squint from time to time to make sure my backpacks were still with me. A piercing blue sky is hard to ignore. Have you noticed that as well?
Eventually, I opened my eyes fully to watch my surroundings. Slots of valued curb space were traded by vehicles I'll never see again and faces I'll never recognize again in all my life- all of them coming and going. Isn't it amazing that some faces you'll never remember, and some you'll never forget, but someone else will- the ones you won't remember will be unforgettable- are unforgettable to someone else. Each of us has a quota of those exceptional faces.
I don't remember hardly any of the faces I saw from the airport or the planes. But I remember the momentum of their bodies and the size of their families. I remember the little girl in a forrest green romper and small rain boots be swiftly picked up in the air and kissed by a man I supposed was her father, before her mother- I assume that's who she was, was quickly kissed by him too, and grabbed the little girl's hand and sped towards the glass doors. I remember the frazzled way a worried woman ran after the car that was already rolling away and saved her son's backpack from the backseat, scolding him with her tone of voice as much as her eyes in a way I imagine her mother once scolded her. I remember the man with a gold earring and owl-like eyes, whose face was so set on something no one else could see but him and how when the plane landed, he shot past me creating a drafty wind behind him, and ran down the halls until he disappeared and we never made that penetrating eye contact again. I remember the old man barley an arm's length away from me, and the way his hands folded gently in his lap. I saw his gray hair tuffs around his neck and how the shiny hair swirled out of his baseball hat the way my Grandpa's always does in back, and perhaps that's why I nearly cried when I saw his hearing aids tucked behind his ear, because seeing them was a sign of something- someone I love becoming weaker.
Keep one eye on the weaker
and one eye on the stronger
realize
both are beautifully alive
both feel warm rays of delicious sun
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