The Statement - February 2014
I’m waiting at the bus stop in a polite little queue with my fellow citizens like I have every morning for the last thousand mornings. No one speaks, they just stare down into their phones and papers and young adult fiction. I’m just gazing down the street at nothing in particular. That’s why I see him first.
The pirate sailing down the road.
Sitting across from each other, their eyes the same dark pools of immigrant brown, I saw for the first time what had been there from the beginning. It was not what I thought; time’s toll on lives lived through the heart of a glorious, disastrous century but rather the complex, wrenching, illuminated image of one heart making the supreme effort to heal another.
I heard her say, I’ll stay as long as you need me.
I’ll admit, there was a bit of luck, but when is there not?