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IT'S JUST A STICK
If you walk around in our house I must say candidly
You probably wouldn’t give a second thought to some of the things you see.
You might miss that piece of wood in the corner if you walk by a little too quick
And even if you noticed it, you might think...“It’s just a stick.”
In the kitchen, in the corner...that piece of furniture...over there
Chances are you’d pass it by, or think....”It’s just a chair.”
It’s possible you might not see the that pen and ink drawing on the wall
If you did, chances are you’d say...“It’s just some picture after all.”
And of that weathered old strap in the laundry room...you might not be aware
Or you might say...“It’s just an old dog leash I see hanging over there.”
And you’d be right in your assumptions for we see things as we find them
But the meaning is not in what we see but in the story that’s behind them.
That old leash was our dog Whitman’s and he would match me stride for stride
As he and I walked every morning...until the day he died.
My father drew that self-portrait, he was a young man around 22
It’s a nice remembrance of the man, now that his life is through.
Deborah’s father made that little chair and it rests in the corner because
It serves as a constant reminder of the type of man he was.
That is Deborah’s mother’s walking stick in the corner for all to see
Deborah’s dad carved it for her from the branch of an old orange tree.
But that stick is more than decoration...it’s not just there for idle talk
It reminds Deborah of her mom each day when we take our morning walk.
It’s funny isn’t it...the things we might not notice when we walk through someones door?
We might be seeing just a stick...when it’s really so much more.
