I Love to Write
I understand now, I do. It’s about people and their experiences, how they make/made a difference in other people’s lives. It’s about connections, helping, loving, teaching.
People are starving and are hungry for more than just food. People are alone and they are lonely and they are alone and they are scared and need someone, they need friends, smiling faces, love, connections and some can make those connections because they have the means and others can’t make the connections because maybe they are broken and they are desperate for the smallest morsel, a crumb, something, anything.
I spoke to a woman while I was working. She lived her life as a civil rights activist in a very turbulent time in our history. She spoke words like racial prejudice, black and white, school integration. She dropped named like Dr. King and John Kennedy. Those people in those times. I know you know the time in history I’m talking about.
I listened to her as I worked her account. She spoke the language of the time “right on.” She shared her experiences. And as she spoke I was transported back to another time and place. I was a mere youth back in the early to mid 1960’s but I remembered those times as they happened and I learned the meaning and significance years later. It was the experience, the connection. I soaked up the talk, her thoughts and expressions. I soaked up and I feasted on the exchange of talk, of life. It was great. Had I not been working I could have listened to her for hours.
I was lucky. I’m in a position to listen, to talk, to share. And others are desperate and have no one, are alone and they need people as I need people, as you do.
All of a sudden something made sense to me. I connected the dots. I understood.
People are starving and are hungry for more than just food. People are alone and they are lonely and they are alone and they are scared and need someone, they need friends, smiling faces, love, connections and some can make those connections because they have the means and others can’t make the connections because maybe they are broken and they are desperate for the smallest morsel, a crumb, something, anything.
I spoke to a woman while I was working. She lived her life as a civil rights activist in a very turbulent time in our history. She spoke words like racial prejudice, black and white, school integration. She dropped named like Dr. King and John Kennedy. Those people in those times. I know you know the time in history I’m talking about.
I listened to her as I worked her account. She spoke the language of the time “right on.” She shared her experiences. And as she spoke I was transported back to another time and place. I was a mere youth back in the early to mid 1960’s but I remembered those times as they happened and I learned the meaning and significance years later. It was the experience, the connection. I soaked up the talk, her thoughts and expressions. I soaked up and I feasted on the exchange of talk, of life. It was great. Had I not been working I could have listened to her for hours.
I was lucky. I’m in a position to listen, to talk, to share. And others are desperate and have no one, are alone and they need people as I need people, as you do.
All of a sudden something made sense to me. I connected the dots. I understood.
