To Make the World a Little More Beautiful

 Three days ago I ran away.  I left with a friend to journey to the coldest, furthermost part of the country.  I wanted to see the snow, to feel icy particles brush my checks as I walk, knee still sore, through unfamiliar streets, away.  Away from the eyes of those who seek to know me and the eyes of those who do know me.

We are on a pilgrimage to find something, a God thing maybe, and something to do with our hearts.  It's been raining since we arrived.  I've bought a thermal and my legs are sore from walking but it's good to be away.

 I want everyone to forget that somewhere on this planet I wander.  Why?  Somewhere along the journey I stood up and I said something.  I told them what I think, what I've been through, what I have come to and why I believe what I do; and in that public declaration, they cried.  Why do they cry?  Because I cry.  Every time I stand up and say something I stand there and show them a little of my heart.  And it makes me cry.  Deep inside, I cry.

I cry as I don't know the answer.  All I know is what I've seen and what I've felt and what I've had to walk through.  I don't tell them what I think or where I'm from because I know the answer, but I tell them because something in them aches, and if I don't tell them, I ache with them.

And I get tired of aching.  My knee has been sore for the past few weeks, I hurt it while walking one day, and I'm tired of it hurting, but walk I must, even though it hurts.  Walk I must.


I will return in just over a week and they will see me again.  They will smile at me, as they know me, as they've heard my heart, and I pray when I see them again I will also know.  I will know somehow a little more of what it is that tugs at my heart and keeps me awake, and above all, why every time I stand up and say something, they cry, I cry and somehow the world is a little more beautiful.