Sunday afternoon. New Haven. Connecticut. Amongst ladies. My sisters.
It was as though we were not present. I switch. Bear with me.
They talked about him in his presence. It seemed he had gained an aura of invisibility. These ladies referred to as sisters are friends. They had grown a partnership that surpassed common comprehension. Though they believed God to be their backbone, they trusted him to be there for them. He had tried willingly to be available at all times. After all they seldom called him and if they did, he made it a point to run over.
It is one thing to have a friend. It is another to have a friend claim you as a brother or sister. Yet still it goes beyond when it is lived. From your perch when you perceive that love in display without fear of future repercussions then you know Ghana jollof is better than Nigerian jollof.
It is sad when you are of the same stock and those you know do not even acknowledge you. It is disheartening; gut wrenching. But then not all are cut of the same cloth though the same mill produced the cloths.
These beautiful ladies ( in and out) urged this man on his endeavors. They asked him to be mindful of his health for there was still a lot of good to be let out. They discussed him in his presence. It was the truth laid bare. They minced no words.
He felt loved. He felt appreciated. He was encouraged.
I was there. I was one of four men present. I only chose to write down what transpired for future reference.
Encourage someone. Someone will encourage YOU.
#SILENTNOISES
#SilentNoises ~knm 