{“A Terrifying Kindness”}

1
I’ve been waiting for the words all week.
Snow ― after four years!
Food!
Stars.
Such joys.

2
There’s something about family history.
Something about the feeling of the past,
resting on the shoulders of someone’s memory,
someone’s God-given ability to tell a story.
The candles start to listen, I swear.
And the laughs ― those never die.

3
My eyes start to go a little blurry and
my body shakes with coughs of too-cold air.
But my head doesn’t hurt, not now.

4
I walk in the dark after dinner.

5
There’s something about family history.
I miss my family, but God,
I am thankful.

6
“The Lord’s terrifying kindness has come to me.”

7
“Good night, Reid.”

8
The stars are many, I know you know this.
I remember on a school trip years ago,
on the backside of Mount Kenya,
my teacher told us why the stars flicker.

9
The stars.
Such joys.
Such kindness.

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Things I’ve Learned in the Past Few Months

1. Wildfires are big and scary and fast moving.

2. Clean air is not something to be taken granted.

3. There is a lot of joy to be found in this world. The sun keeps shining and you’re still breathing. Keep searching, my friend.

4. Generosity is not something we take or give. We share it, between us. “Let me make you this tasty drink for free because you are fighting day and night to put out a fire. See now how we both feel better?”

5. The ocean is always moving, and it’s so beautiful, and unforgiving.

6. There is a big castle on a hill in the Central Coast of California whose joy is still emanating from the walls. You can feel the architect, a revolutionary woman, smiling through the tapestries of the old walls. You can still hear a bit of an echo of the owner, laughing.

7. Distance can make the heart grow fonder, but also, less sympathetic.

8. An iced americano with just a touch of vanilla syrup can be life changing, some mornings.

9. I’m living a blessed life. I’m trying everyday to not forget.

{9 November 2017}

This is a magic rock.
You might not believe me, but let me tell you about it.

Two little girls, one with long blonde hair and the other with dark shiny hair,
found a pack of crayons in the geocache under the tree in the foothills,
and they set to work to create magic rocks to sell to us in exchange
for weeds or my snack or a bigger rock or, really,
anything else that they determined to have value.

They gave me this rock, a pink heart painted onto it like an embodiment
of the day’s shiny joy,
and they said to me,

“You have the power of the moon, Reid.”
I said, “Why, thank you!”

In other words, a woman at church asked me if I believed in miracles,
and I said, “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

Two little girls gave me the power of the moon in a rock smaller than my palm
and, you may not believe me, but I believe in miracles,
and the moon has never shone like it did that night.

{9 October 2017}

Today, two men in the coffee shop shared a poem
written in big enough font so they could both read it.

Today, a bird saw me coming on the bike lane,
hopped out of the way, and chirped at me as I passed,
a greeting, I think.

Today, a little girl smiled at me across the counter
with a smile almost as wide as her face.

Today, a piece of metal from my bike
reflected a small rainbow on the path.

Today, I ate food born of the earth’s
dark, ancient soil.

Today, I spoke to someone across the Atlantic and
their face was clear as crystal as they told me about their life far away.

Today, the blue windy sky danced on my skin,
and by ‘danced’ I mean ‘opened my eyes.’

Today, a woman in the store told me she loved
to hear us laugh.

Today, two little boys laughed loud at all my dumb jokes
and all their own silly noises.

Tell me about your day.
Was it a miracle like mine?