The Remarkables

There's a little place just off of the square in my hometown called the Beehive.

There, you'll find brick walls, charming couches and chairs, a baby grand, shelves full of books, and an albino alligator- a white chocolate and coffee concoction that I had this morning (and will be having again as soon as Monday rolls around).

It's just a nook in the corner, but it's a nook that has quickly become one of my favorites.

This morning I was there with friends: one was posting grades for her 7th grade math class, one was hiding behind his laptop secretly writing, and I was studying for an exam.

Nothing really "remarkable" happened, but still, I left there feeling brave, and vibrant, and happy.

I saw more familiar faces in the past two days in this small nook than I see in the entire town driving around. And each face had a story, and advise, and wisdom.

And what I found was that all of the faces were growing up, and changing, and moving on, and alas, hoping. They were wanting to write novels, or change lives, or care about something or someone.

And in the quiet of the nook, or not so quiet since Christmas music was playing the entire time, I caught a glimpse of the future (like I do so often...) and it was good. My novel was finished, my friend's novel was finished, the old faces had loved and been loved and accomplished what they wanted, and the people who wanted to care, cared, and the young faces were still bright and hopeful.

The lives around me are remarkable.

They are doubtful at times, insecure about things which there is no need to be insecure, but they are all brave in there own way. And they are unique and gifted. Some can long board, fearlessly, conquering the asphalt with "slides and turns." Others know the theory of y=mx +b and their brains work in ways mine do not. Some carry wisdom with them and effortlessly allow themselves to be borrowed for the sake of another. And there are those who have conquered small, and those who have conquered big, but in the eyes of the conqueror, it's any wonder that they did it at all. They are left thankful, and I am encouraged to be the same.

It's strange that anther's word, hope, or bravery could convince me that failing life is not possible. That with air, a beating heart, and want, one could accomplish great or small. A different path is not the wrong one, but a new one. A heart break isn't the end, but maybe the beginning. And a novel is only written, when one actually writes, and since the victory is its being written, once finished, how can you fail?

A small word spoken
tearing jeans and bleeding in the hope of learning to long board
reaching for what others think is insignificant or a waste of time
loving despite ...
carrying on with "the plan" no matter how ridiculous
finishing something started
...

...We are conquerors. And in the small conversations we have in the corners and in-between the isles, when stories are told, and advise or wisdom is given, They- the one's sharing- and us - the ones being reminded- become remarkables.