I was going to write something else, but I changed my mind. And I know this is corny—believe me, I know—but I love you.
No, It’s true. We probably don’t know each other, but I love you to death. I swear it. I just have a feeling that you need to hear that today.
Anyway, if you do, I’m your guy.
You know what else I love? The cashier in Winn-Dixie. Her name is Linda, she’s from North Alabama, and she talks like it. She and her husband moved here for his job.
She showed me cellphone photos of her parents, brothers, and sisters. She wears a strong face when she talks, but I know homesickness when I see it.
“My mother is coming to town,” she told me. “For vacation, on Monday.”
She was so excited it was blasting through her green eyes.
I love the boy selling magazine subscriptions at my front door. I didn’t want to buy magazines, but that kid deserved a few bucks for being brave enough to knock on a stranger’s door.
I asked why he was
selling them. He told me it was because he wanted to earn enough to buy a cutting-edge smartphone.
For his grandmother.
I love Brigette. You’d like her, too. She’s a four-foot-nine stick of dynamite with silver hair.
Her husband has Alzheimer’s. Brigette is his caretaker. She gives everything to him. It’s just who she is. She gives until she’s dry. Then gives more.
I love the white-haired man I saw today. He sat at the intersection with a backpack and a cardboard sign which read: “Going to Tallahassee.”
His name was Gary. His skin was sun-darkened. His son lives in Tallahassee.
I love my neighbor’s dog. The dog has liver cancer. She’s named Libby. Libby has been alive four years longer than the vet predicted.
Libby takes a short walk every day, by herself. Sometimes I see…