“…I can sing…”
I don’t know her name, but she wore what looked like a Day-Glo St. Lawrence River long sleeve t-shirt.
To those who run the joint of Waddington, I want you to know what she told me as she stood selling t-shirts away from all the official vendors.
It was just a gentle tap on my arm; her voice was as soft as the tap. In fact, I had to lean down to hear what she said; and what she said blew me away, didn’t have to write it down because I will remember it for a long time.
Remember it for its grace.
Remember it for its conviction.
Remember it for its love.
This is what the Day-Glo lady said in a whisper to me, “That’s our child out there,” as she pointed with her head to the river behind her.
“That’s our child out there.”
We are the lone balloon in the sky, and yet,
it is the sky we care about.
The river does not know we are here,
but we think of it as our child.
We care for the stuff,
that has no idea there is other stuff here.
That is the KIND in MAN.
We can take a rock in space, we can take brown and blue, we can take pavement and grass, wood and rocks,
and make it home.