This post is part of the Secret Messages Project. Every day for thirty days, I’ll leave my words in places where they might be found — or might never be found at all. I hope you’ll join me.
This morning, while the living room was still full of warm morning light, I inked some words on a piece of parchment paper:
I tucked it inside a file folder, then drove down to Harkrader Park.
It’s one of the tiniest little parks in the city — just a semicircle of pebbled ground, a few thoughtfully placed boulders and trees, all of it about the size of your average driveway. The place is positioned just off Colonial Avenue, across from Towers Shopping Center, so that if you sit down on one of those boulders you hear the rush of traffic less than ten feet away. Still, it’s beautiful.
I don’t know why I picked this place; it just felt right. Maybe on some level I wanted to carve out a little quiet — a little rest and hope and joy — from the busy onrush of the day. Which is what Harkrader Park tries to do, in its humble way. And I happen to think it succeeds.
I left the folder on one of the boulders, pinned down by a heavy stone:
And I’ll tell you, no matter how busy or harried you are —
is as good a day as any
to believe in the