I
am sitting in a cozy theater café on Santa Monica Boulevard, drinking
coffee and writing reflections in my journal. The door flies open, and
in marches a colorful and cheery fellow wearing a Hawaiian shirt, beige
shorts, sneakers and a matching crème colored hat. His blue eyes scan
the room, taking in the vibrant murals and decorative accessories before
curiously settling onto me. “Are you a writer?”
I tell him I keep a daily journal just for fun, dabbling in observations of life. He gently takes the book out of my hands and admires my cursive handwriting. “I want to hear something you have written. Read it to me.” So I do. He looks at me, his eyes are soft and full of emotion. “That was beautiful. Can you please write it down? I want to frame it.” Surprised and flattered, I copy down my little paragraph on the back of his program, signing it with my name. He grips my hand firmly: “I will treasure this, Colleen.”
Later I see him again. Seated in the front row of a black box theater, he excitingly points at me and exclaims: ”This is Colleen. This is the gal, I told you about, she wrote the poem.” Around me, heads turn. The lights go out, and I sit down. If you are reading this, Richard, thank you for making my day and night.
Here is what I wrote on the back of a program today:
On the road of life, every once in awhile
You meet a stranger who asks to walk with you.
He doesn’t want to know where you have been,
What you do or where you are going;
He doesn’t want directions,
A commitment or a place to stay…
Go on, you are in
For maybe the best conversation of your life.
© Colleen Yorke. All rights reserved.
I tell him I keep a daily journal just for fun, dabbling in observations of life. He gently takes the book out of my hands and admires my cursive handwriting. “I want to hear something you have written. Read it to me.” So I do. He looks at me, his eyes are soft and full of emotion. “That was beautiful. Can you please write it down? I want to frame it.” Surprised and flattered, I copy down my little paragraph on the back of his program, signing it with my name. He grips my hand firmly: “I will treasure this, Colleen.”
Later I see him again. Seated in the front row of a black box theater, he excitingly points at me and exclaims: ”This is Colleen. This is the gal, I told you about, she wrote the poem.” Around me, heads turn. The lights go out, and I sit down. If you are reading this, Richard, thank you for making my day and night.
Here is what I wrote on the back of a program today:
On the road of life, every once in awhile
You meet a stranger who asks to walk with you.
He doesn’t want to know where you have been,
What you do or where you are going;
He doesn’t want directions,
A commitment or a place to stay…
Go on, you are in
For maybe the best conversation of your life.
© Colleen Yorke. All rights reserved.