The Zoey Blog: What I Wanted To Be When I Grew Up... FINAL - COVER UNIVERSE EXPLORERS ORDER

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

What I Wanted To Be When I Grew Up...

He literally just walked out of my office...just now, and with lunch hour in full swing I've found a moment to type. These people and this work never fails to astound humble make sense of a planet so impossible to make sense of...The young man left my borrowed office space and as the squeak of his sneakers disappeared into the crowd it struck me that I may very we'll have just been part of a conversation that would "make things different." Sometimes you don't know. Sometimes you have no idea if an exchange of words and ideas even matters all that much...and then you have this...what just happened, and you're certain.  Then the text message comes...subtle...very quiet, almost muted but sincere (that's how boys do it)..."thanks"...and you can't imagine doing any other thing, in any other moment, ever.

Some days it's so paralyzingly obvious that I'm the most fortunate person on planet earth. No discussion. Some days it strikes me that everything that has happened up 'till now was supposed to happen so that he and I could have that specific conversation.  Sometimes it's clear that the things that you believe in, the messages that you glean from this or that, from everything you've ever "gleaned" any message from ever (just what the Hell "gleaned" means mattering little in this profound moment)...were all exactly as they were meant to I interpreted something, just what I learned from this, or what struck me as memorable about that...ALL of that happened so that I could say what I said today, and understand what I heard. All of it happened so that Kyle, let's say his name is Kyle, could walk away from our conversation and feel better.  There isn't a better affirmation on the planet, I don't think.

He left and it struck me that maybe, just maybe, this is exactly what I am supposed to be doing.  I suspect that I'd have a hard time convincing him that I benefit a lot more from knowing him than him from me...or that this moment, this conversation that just happened will help someone tomorrow, or next year, or that I will never, ever forget it...that it helps me, but perhaps that's not important. What is important is that he left here feeling normal...lighter...hopeful.

"What do you do," the stranger asks.

"Me," the smiling man gestures to his chest, "Me? Oh, I sell hope."

Take that high school guidance counselor.


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