To the silvery haired man walking up the hill...

Monday, July 15, 2013

The morning was cloudy and the air was muggy. Humid. Gray. Muggy mornings call for sweaty backs and haggard breathing when walking to school, up the grueling hill that seems a lot steeper when you haven't run in days. My back surely was the sweatiest and my head was hung low because I had been thinking far too hard about the work I had to do, and I kept wondering why I let myself stay up so late. Then suddenly, a sweet, cool breeze picked up and I lifted my head to the rustling sound of the leaves on a near by tree. I looked at the breezy wave in the grass and as my eyes panned over to the mountains I saw him. I saw you old man! I saw you and your silvery head of perfectly salted hair! I was definitely farther up the hill than you were. Your steps were steady. Slow and steady. Your head was held high and the breeze caught your surprisingly full head of hair ever so nicely. I like it when breezes catch things well. While I kept walking, I kept looking at you. My pace slowed to that of yours. It may sound strange that I was so mesmerized by you, but kind sir, I saw something in you that dastardly humid day. I saw something in you even when I was suffering from back sweat...sometimes that impairs my "seeing" abilities. I saw good, light, happiness, wisdom. Though you were far, I saw that hopeful look in your eyes, the patience, and the perseverance. Sir, you probably walk that hill every single day. Construction has taken your easy parking space away and instead of complaining you simply nod and think, well I better put on my best walking shoes. And so you did. And you do every day. And even though loads of fast-paced and impatient college students speed by you and huff a grumble or two, you keep your pace. You make it up that hill and you make it up the set of stairs at the top of the hill. I know you do, because I saw you do it myself. You walked all that way with that briefcase in hand, ready to go teach your religion/philosophy/science/english class. I don't even know if you are professor or not, but you looked like one. Like I said, you looked wise, like an old tree. It was the hair, I think. And maybe you don't teach large lectures full of students who don't pay attention as much as they should, but I thought I would let you know that you taught me something that day. You taught me to take my time. You taught me to look up. To appreciate beauty around me a little bit more. I don't even know what was on your mind, you could have been having the most grumbly day, but you didn't look it at all. You looking absolutely positive. I know I want to look that way now. Even if people think I walk too slow, or even if I'm running a little late, or even if the back sweat is reaching it's conquering point, I will be positive like you silvery-haired friend. I will learn so I can have wisdom in my eyes. I will serve so I can have love in my heart. I will do good so I can have light within. Thank you from the bottom of my juicy little heart, old friend. I hope to see you again, on that hill so green and so steep.

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