Dear Sir,

I wish that I knew your name so that I could call you  by it.  You seemed quite proper though, so I will call you “sir”.  I know that you lived in the neighborhood where I now sit watching the kids play on the playground.  And I wonder, did you ever watch them too?

We both started our day never knowing we would cross paths. Me, grabbing a pastry before heading off to a field trip.  You, walking toward the stores ~ were you heading there?

I met you as I looked in your eyes.  Were you still there?  My training instantly took over, giving commands as my voice relayed messages from a dusty store of knowledge and my hands mapped your chest from a pattern I learned long ago.

Did you meet me?  Did you see the love of the women surrounding you, eager to jump at my commands, wishing for your life?  Did you hear the kindness in the paramedic’s voice, as he let me know that my part was done?  Did you know that we were there as we stood hugging with tears, before putting on our brave faces to join the children at school?

Later, as I laughed with the kids playing on old helicopters, I would remember you.  Your pale blue eyes, surrounded by worn skin with the experience and wisdom of age.  Your dress shirt, buttoned up, that I felt necessary to gently unbutton for you.  Your grey pants, ironed, and black shoes with little wear.  Your body lean, but not frail.

I wonder, where were you going?  What is your story?  Was today a special day, or did you take the time in your dress to treat everyday like it was special?  I wonder who is crying for you today, and are they crying tears of longing, or by some miracle, tears of hope?

I wonder, did you believe your journey continues from here, or did you believe it ends outside of the gates where kids were eagerly awaiting their trip to the museum?  If it does continue somewhere new, please find Rowan if you can.  Please pass along the warmth of my hand that touched you today, and please let him know that it is from his mom.