It’s been a quiet evening of reading and listening to music. Perhaps a little too quiet – made me a little introspective.
A few weeks ago, I had dinner with some friends – and friends-of-friends – and met someone new. The guy was from New York, but had spent the last few months traveling around the country to visit baseball fields. Yes, really. A former lawyer, he had traveled all over the world – and he somewhat dominated the conversation. I ate my simple meal, folded a small paper box, and listened – since I kinda didn’t really have an option otherwise.
And I felt… small. This guy had traveled all over the planet. Visited exotic locations and met people from all walks of life. All kinds of adventures and a type of courage that bordered on… well… a little crazy.
I’ve been to Canada. Once. And once to Vegas – which nearly counts as another country.
He had stories of strange food and interesting people, of wild car rides and exotic company.
Not boasting, I guess, just really intent on telling his stories.
And the canvas of my life and adventures felt pretty small. I haven’t traveled the world, my circle of friends is small, and my adventures – such as they are – are pretty tame.
It was starting to wear me down a bit, but then the server noted the little paper person I had folded and lit up. We gave it to her and she was delighted.
Maybe a little thing – but it mattered. I always have paper with me and I’ve given away hundreds – perhaps thousands – of little people, birds, flowers, and dragons. There is a wonder with these small paper creations and it’s pretty amazing to watch someone’s eyes light up. Especially little kids and seniors.
Rarely do the things I do have a huge or lasting impact – I guess. But, for just a few moments, I can make things a little bit better for the people around me. And I think that’s worth something.
The canvas of my life may be small, but there surprising bursts of color.