Day 340 - It's Your Story
That I am loved
That I recognize it
That I can love
There was a man who was not loved. He spent his days working, and he spent his days thinking and he spent his days alone. He was not well-loved in the neighborhood; he had no handles, you see. He had no places for others to grab onto, to know him and to show him and to just like him. The man went through life too smoothly to be loved.
After he died, strangers came and took his things away. They cleaned and sold his house and a nice little family moved in with children who would play in the yard and a goggie that everyone could pet. And they were well loved.
One day, another man came to town to shoot a film about the town. It seemed that the smooth man, the man who was not well-loved had been a writer. He wrote only about his town and the people he loved and their ways, and the town was famous for it. They hadn't recognized the love the man had for the townfolk while they had him. But when they read his books because, they began to understand just how loved they had been and, indeed, how worthy of love they had been, most of them.
And the town raised a statue to the man, their one famous man, and at the base of it they first placed words of praise and glory. But the words disappeared. No matter how often or how largely they were placed there, they eventually disappeared. Until finally the town decided to actually say what they had learned from the man with no handles. And then the words stayed and shone in the evening sun in the main square that the man had so loved.
But I won't tell you what they say. You have to learn that for yourself.
It's your story, after all.