 A short time ago, my best friend and fellow carpooler noted His surprise at the number of times I had driven past these steps without the slightest curiosity. “It’s so unlike you,” He said, “to not want to know what’s on the other side!“ |
| He was right: it wasn’t like me to not want to know something… anything… everything. Yet for several years, and sometimes as much as several times a week, I had driven past those steps in our constant comings and goings, always in a hurry to somewhere and sometimes rushing from nowhere, until they were just another passing phantom in both my peripheral vision and memory. Truth be told: I would have been surprised if, at that moment, I could have told Him what that number was. “I’m gonna’ stop one day,” I promised Him, “and find out what’s at the top of those stairs.” |
 Today, my best friend noted His surprise at the number of times I’ve stopped, during our many comings and goings, just to walk to the top of those same stairs. “You know why I stop.” I said smiling at Him. “It’s because now we both know what’s here!” |
This is like thinking out loud in a crowded room
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