Like I said last time, I keep seeing hearts. I continue to find them scattered about a neighborhood I’ve lived in for well over a year. Surely, most of these hearts have been here all along, painted on a wall or sculpted into the concrete sidewalk long ago. But others are fleeting, like the small paper hearts Ruby and I happened upon the other morning right on our block. They only had so much time to be found before they blew away or were otherwise scooped up. What were the chances we’d see them?

 

 

I loved your emails this past week and how many of you have tried to help me decipher these hearts and these odds. You said that what we need is often presented to us and, by extension, that which we need is always there, always present. (Thank you, Aunt Carla.) I suppose it’s just a matter of keeping our eyes—and our hearts—open. Clear eyes, full hearts, after all, right Emily and Laura Lee?

 

 

You said that someone is sending me love. I was hesitant to believe that at first because it’s been difficult to believe in a lot these days. But these hearts—and your belief not only in them but also in me—are helping me believe, too. (Thank you, Becky.)

 

 

You told me about seeking out and finding many a heart in your respective corner of the world and you reminded me that just when you think you won’t see any more, you start to find some misshapen ones, the kind that may not be perfect, but are hearts nevertheless. Exactly. Imperfect, but hearts nevertheless. (Thank you, Gina.)

 

 

You said you did some thinking and soul searching of your own, about stress and getting older and how we cope with change. (Thank you, Mike.) All told, you are a deep readership, and I thank you for engaging with my journey in these beautiful ways.

 

 

So, speaking of chances, I found a patch of wet gravel this week, on the sidewalk just around the corner from our apartment. Part of me wanted to pick up a stick, hop the temporary fencing, and trace a heart of my own, to both commemorate what a heart now means to me and for others to find as they head on their way. But, I didn’t. I know, I know… What held me back? I’m not sure. I suppose a respect for the property and hard work of others, especially after Ruby and I spent the week walking by the workmen as they labored. I suppose because I’m still a stranger. This is not my country, after all, though my life started to change so profoundly here.

 

 

As my walks with Ruby remind me, there are plenty of hearts yet to see and gather. Similarly, there are plenty of ways to leave my own heart upon the world. I wish for all of you to find some hearts along the way, as you journey, as you look up and down and to the side. You might be surprised by how many you find and when and how you do.