Living
in the city all my life, I'd become cautious towards strangers. I kept this
guard up after relocating to raise our children in a small township.
While
I strolled Main Street one morning, a man using a cane neared my baby's coach.
As he approached us on the sidewalk, I took stock of him. Thin and weathered, a
bit hunched and very aged. Yet, I felt his strange self-possession.
Before
passing, he did something to me I'd never experienced. With one sincere motion,
he fingered the brim of his hat in the wisp of a nod.
If not for his frail frame I wouldn't have peeked at his seasoned face, braving a connection. His eyes translated deep respect that sparked my core with warmth. An impulse urged me to hug him.
Recovered from my swoon, I knew not to approach him with such odd behavior. By then, he was half a block behind me anyway.
If not for his frail frame I wouldn't have peeked at his seasoned face, braving a connection. His eyes translated deep respect that sparked my core with warmth. An impulse urged me to hug him.
Recovered from my swoon, I knew not to approach him with such odd behavior. By then, he was half a block behind me anyway.
This
brief, silent affair proved I was home.
That was so nice. You never hear anything like that anymore.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Loretta.
DeleteVery Sweet!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Joanne.
DeleteDawn, the language you chose to relate this experience to your readers is exquisite. Truly inspirational. I love the respect of the old ways. I believe they speak volumes. And so does your account of this experience. Thanks for sharing it.
ReplyDeleteDefinitely drew me in. Enjoyed it. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Cassandra.
Delete