A Stranger’s Story

"You have a great understanding of the human condition" 

-Dear friend of mine

There. That is the most beautiful compliment I have ever received.

 Perception is what they call it. What a small, simple word we use to describe those small glimpses we catch of one another's stories.

I don't know your story, I do not know what touches your soul, what makes you cry. I will never know what makes you laugh so much, it brings tears to your eyes.

There are things you tell me without ever saying a word.

The way you crease your forehead to solve a complex equation, tells of the trust you have that all you must understand, is already inside of you.

I know you are comforted by the sound of rain because you've been fighting sleep ever since the rain started pouring.

You see, most stories we make of others are created not by what they tell us, but by how we seem them interact with this strange, little world.



I think this is what joy feels like.

like a flock of birds returning home in spring.

A crowd breaking out in song.

Gentle murmurs deep in the night.

It's striking,

For sanity to be a virtue,

 there must also exist, the insane.

For pride there must be shame.

For abundance, there must be scarcity.

For one to appreciate satiation, 

there must have existed in its place, hunger.

Peace, war.

Lovers and enemies, 

shallowness and depth.

You see, for every story told, 

there remains one left untold.

Like two sides of a coin.

There comes a time for ones last breath,

And subsequently another ones first.

Just like in a book, for a new chapter to begin,

another one must come to an end.




It’s a funny word, you see

Sometimes home is a feeling.

Like how I'm back in my childhood bedroom with the rocking chair that was so old, it creaked like a kettle, but we loved it so much, we swore we’d keep it forever. 

It's what makes my heart warm when I smell homemade bread

and just like that, I'm back in mamas kitchen.

It’s the reason I smile when I sing my little one a lullaby, it reminds me of a feeling that mama passed to me.

Someday these bedtime stories will be long forgotten, but it will forever remain a warm, snuggly feeling in this little one's chest.



I think it’s beautiful 

how you throw your head back to laugh

 as if to tell the world 

that your joy cannot be contained.

I think it’s beautiful 

How you cry when you’re down,

How you shout when you’re passionate,

How you kiss when you love,

How you dance when you’re free.

It’s beautiful 

How you hug yourself for comfort.

How you’re so unashamedly human.


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