If you were on school vacation last week, I hope that you had a wonderful time. You may not have known it was TV Turnoff Week; the NaPoWriMo poems here all focused on fun things to do instead of watching television. This week's poems will once again be a mish-mash, but if you'd like to read what you missed, check out the right sidebar for a list and links.
Poems come from every corner of life.
Waiting in line at a convenience store last week, I found myself in front of a man talking with a young employee of the shop. It was a halting conversation, and I overheard the older man say, "You know, the other day I came across some old pictures of you. You were such a little guy."
The younger man looked a bit awkward, and they talked about nothing-and-everything for a few moments before they shook hands as the older man said, "Well, see you soon sometime."
I looked at the man's face as the red-shirted teenager walked away, "That's my son," he told me. "It's been five years since I've seen him." He sighed and wiped a tear from his eye, "I used to change his diapers. I'm here to buy hot dog rolls so I can see him at work." The father shook his head.
For me, this was a rare glance inside of a stranger's soul and a deep wish to comfort that stranger's soul. I said the only thing I could think to say, "You're right to be here. Whatever happened before is in the past. What you do now is important, it matters."
That boy may be angry forever. Maybe he should be. He may reject his father's overtures, and I may be completely wrong. But I do believe in forgiveness and in hope and in the power of a child's love. So this poem is for them, the father and son at Wilson Farms.