It started as I headed down Park Place on my first mile. I passed a man collecting bottles from the trash and recycling discarded from those who live in the brownstones. Only to be gathered by a truck and taken to a dump, this man rummaged through taking the five cent deposits. His income? I thought. Perhaps. Or, maybe he has greater insight as to where these plastics and glass end up. Why wouldn't we receive the five cents back... we pay for it! Unfortunately, people see it as inconvenient and wasted of time for only a bit of change. However, this man wasn't above it and I applaud him for this.
Next my mind settled on my Grandmother. She's only been gone for a little over a month and my mother and aunt have her house almost prepped for sale. They've convinced themselves this is what she wants, and I believe it to I guess. But my grandmother wasn't so different from the man I passed on the street this morning. She wasn't above anyone or anything. She befriended everyone she met and though she didn't posses what most would view as valuable, she was the richest woman I know. Rich with love and warmth, comfort and strength.
I felt empowered as I ran thinking of her. It made me proud to be her granddaughter and made me miss her so much I couldn't even feel my legs.
Now I am here, rambling on to you. As I poured my coffee about ten minutes ago I recalled how she liked it - sweet with milk. She would refer to her coffee as creek water after a rain.
On with the day.
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