"I really like my friends. Can they stay with us for 11 years?" Janie's eyes shine with possibility. Eleven years is so much less than forever. She's thinking I'll probably say, "Yes!"
Sunday we head for the park. Including the boys' chaperon, "Uncle" Chris, we are a party of nine. We walk through the wideness of green grass and tall oaks, pines, a footbridge, rushing river. I remember that morning weaving elbow-to-elbow through church. For a moment the mass of people had swallowed up Janie. And as I had turned to shout for her, a little black boy, quick as if released from a gun, had grasped her small hand and pulled her through the sea. To me. And for just a second, I saw the essence of being a man. I wanted to stare at that reflex to protect, the pool of safety that gathered at his feet. I wonder who taught these boys to be men. As we walk, each one is the epicenter of something extraordinary. And though we cut a wide path no one is beyond our reach.
5 comments:
ahhhh. I like that story :)
P.S. I like that goat picture. It reminds me of the boys we had--wild and fun loving yet always respectful. So cute!
How do you do that? In just a few words, you pinpointed the essence of something that could have taken pages and pages to get across. Thanks for sharing your mind & heart here on this blog.
I second what Adina said! Your carefully chosen words play across the page so that we, too, get to walk through "the epicenter of something extraordinary" with you.
I am continually blown away by the lessons we, the ones with the "good life", can learn from the ones with so little. Seems like such irony sometimes... but is it? Thank you for painting the pictures of the stories of your life.
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