My hands grip the steering wheel, my throat is tight, and a single tear forms and falls from the corner of my eye. I don’t wipe it away, but allow it to meander down my cheek as testimony to what has hurt me.
I stop at a red light, and as I’m waiting I notice a white-haired man pushing a shopping cart on the sidewalk across the road. His is a familiar face in this city; he is said to be a kind soul. I’ve only ever seen him in the distance.
The light turns green and I move forward into the intersection. The white-haired man lifts his face, our eyes connect, and he smiles. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen such a genuine smile.
I wish I could say I took the gift of that moment and passed it on to someone else, but I can’t. I’m not pleased with that part of myself. But maybe all is not lost because in the grace of this morning I can still see that smile, and the memory of it reminds me to give it away.
As I tap out these words I think of a song playing on the satellite radio when I left home that day. Dream small the singer, Josh Wilson, said. Don’t buy the lie that you’ve got to do it all. These simple moments change the world.
© 2018 Josh Wilson, Writers of Black River
(Hear the entire song here.)