Better Than That
We are all better than that. We are better than that impulse to lash out.
We are all better than where we may end this day. If only we can go back to that moment in the grass by the viaduct. The water was so calm, the grass that seemed cut by hand. There was something and someone always under the porch.
The porch fell down years ago, but on days like this going back is essential. In the moment the impulse to respond to the worst action of others, the porch can save us. The porch is still there as well as well as the enthusiasm of peering through the shop window at the bicycle that seemed to hold all the promise of the world. The bike never received rusted and was committed to scrap 90 years ago. The promise it held is still out there, revealed with the squeak of squeegie or the gentle call of Bobwhite quails somewhere beyond the flagstone patio, nestled between the Periwinkle and lilac bushes.