Husband and I walked through the park to meet friends for dinner. We took our time, zigzagging, looking around. The air was deliciously damp, hinting at rain. We held hands, swinging them between us. And we talked. About little things and big, bartering ideas and hopes and fragments of dreams. It felt like a date. Like I was still getting to know him, this handsome guy, this person.
(And I am, aren't I?)
We walked past a line of benches. On one, a young man in a hooded sweatshirt sat, singing, and playing the guitar. I don't remember the words, or the melody, or whether he was any good. But I do remember thinking: He is brave. For sitting there. For playing out. For insisting on being heard.
And we walked on. Exiting the park. Making our way. But I thought about him, that nameless man with his music and his dreams. And it made me smile. Because if we open our eyes, if we let ourselves wander and listen, there are so many messages out there. Important ones.
Like to be brave. Like to make music. Like to insist on being heard.
Thank you, mystery man.
Do you feel like you are still getting to know your other half? Are you brave? Are you willing to be heard?