i see him from time to time on the bus or at the bus stop or walking down the street. though i have never met him, something about his presence comforts me, brings me a profound feeling of peace.
not often have i received that from others though i seem to give it or at least people tell me i do. their words are beyond my understanding since my mind seems so chaotic to me most of the time.
and the wizened man, this stranger to whom i feel some unexplained kinship, appears in my life and, without speaking a word, visits that same comfort on me. i suppose if i were ever to tell him, he would think me crazy or perhaps he would just laugh and, with a twinkle in his eye, say ‘thank you, son.’
grace: an unearned, undeserved, unwarranted gift…