There is a fellow that I love.
We’ve never really talked. I couldn’t tell you his age, job, if he’s an inveterate Red Sox fan or wouldn’t touch the game with a 10-foot pole. I see him infrequently. But when I do, I feel like a lottery winner.
Because this fellow risks a great, wide, beautiful smile – the kind we were made to give each other, but so rarely do. It’s safer, of course, to keep our lips closed and just barely upturned when smiling at strangers
But not this fellow. Every tooth becomes visible, his cheeks round, and even from a distance, I can tell his eyes have a big, warm light in them.
Maybe it’s because this happens so rarely or maybe it’s because it’s so unexpected, but I feel ennobled after I see him. Like a flower remembering that her main work is to blossom.
If an indication of a person’s impact on us is that we carry his or her behavior into our own lives, then, yes, this fellow has impacted me. I smile better and bigger now; I remind my lips, cheeks, eyes, that they were made for this.
And what I’m trying to say with this smile is what I feel like that fellow says to me with his: I see you. And it is so good to see you.