December In The Silence

Banal magic. Walking along the early December streets when the world is silent but my mind isn’t. 

The fog and humidity that permeated the air made the attempt of a snapshot tricky. Because my brain is a feedback loop, the words from SFU ran through my head: “…it’s already gone.” But I tried because sometimes in the briefest of intervals and through the indiscernible capricious luck of the moment, I get a picture that defies the inability to describe the universe in my head at that moment. 

One such picture escaped me. As I walked the dead end length of Leverett, rabbit after rabbit fled from the greens of the apartment complex and across the road into the thick brush. At least a hundred of them made the odyssey in front of me along that strip of road. Does the moment sound magical or mirthsome to people after the fact? Probably not; such moments require presence.

When I doubled back down Poplar, a man on a ridiculously large bicycle asked if I had any money.  I told him no. I saw him near the torn up section of sidewalk being rebuilt near the trail and suspected he might ask me something as I approached. I didn’t catch what he said in reply but the tone was inescapable. “I’m sorry. Have a good morning,”I told him. “F*** you,”he said. “Anatomically improbable,” was my reply. I once again did not catch his response. I’m certain my life is much better because of it.

As I walked the streets, I took a long look at all the houses still lit up by Christmas lights. I wondered if the sentiment of holiday charity and kindness would last as the new year approaches. 

Something I read yesterday popped into my head: “If you don’t give when you have little, you won’t when you have a lot. If you don’t practice attention and love when you’re busy, you won’t when you’re idle. If you don’t wave hello first and often, don’t be surprised if the world seems hostile. And if you haven’t lived long enough to know that on a long enough timeline you could be everyone you see around you, give it time.”

The words sound like a New Year’s invocation. And they feel true. 

Love, X

.

Leave a comment