Convoluted Compliments #19
The Gummy Bears
You are kind and selfless in the way you leave my favourite lollies in the lolly jar and dig around for others to eat. Sure, it’s not like you hate them. You enjoy them too, but know I enjoy them more. And this refrain from seeking to subtract the finite amount of gummy bears from the communal glass container is, in itself, an act of love so far reaching it bounds over the border of flower-gifting, dinner-making, or dish-washing. You have done battle with a healthy willpower to deprive yourself of something that I enjoy a touch more than you — and what’s more, you did it without drawing attention to your actions. You went in, expecting nothing, a voluntary, unrequited gesture to show, despite what you might be facing in your life, that you wish for mine to be improved.
Maybe, hidden deeper in this loving, twisted reach, is a deep understanding that the coursing rivers of live can be adjusted with such a simple gesture. That moods can be manipulated like a kite in the wind; though you cannot influence them totally (if only — for then depression would be a more manageable, less lonesome ordeal) — then at least you can nudge them in the right direction. There, I might have an opportunity to pause, find my feet, have a Gatorade, and take the right turn instead of the left one. That I might be prodded like a stubborn donkey to follow the light.
The bright, shining light.
Matt Querzoli is offering up his compliments for use by the general public. The general public is welcome. Follow him or his randy publication if you liked the post, or even the bloke himself if this tickled your proverbial pickle.
