So shines a good deed in a weary world.

Some fairly nice things have been happening to me lately, and I feel like I should write something about them, but they're all so fragmented that attempting to string them together in some sort of coherent manner would simply be innane. So instead, I decided to try some more free writing, but making a concerted effort to put a positive spin on things.

So..... here goes:

I was weary from weeping when she came into my life. She shone like the sun, and made me weep for joy. She was the type to give change to a person on the sidewalk. Something within her means to change someone's day, if not their entire life. She knew that if you added up all the good day, you eventually came up with a good life. She wasn't on a mission.

We walked through fields of green pausing under large leafy trees to chat on the grass, talking of this and that, becoming excited when the groundhog made it's appearance. We saw a large farmhouse and were invited in by the farmer and his wife. Together the four of us sat and had lunch in the sun-lit kitchen. A gentle breeze flowed in through the windows and brought with it a soft fragrance of flowers.

"So tell me," said the farmer, wiping his mouth. "What is it you do, son?"

I already liked the fact that he called me "son," even though we'd only known each other for an hour or two. "I'm a writer," I said.

"Oh my," said his wife. "What do you write about?"

"I write about life. I write about people and their doings. I write about how I hope there's still hope left."

"Hope for what, son?"

"For all of us. Hope that one day, people will be decent to each other without expecting anything in return. Hope that we can heal the damage that's been done to the world and to our society."

She placed her hand on my arm, and I could tell she admired what I was saying. I admired her back for holding these ideals in high regard. We loved each other.

"Well son, that sounds mighty nice."

"Yes, doesn't it Henry?"

And we sat and thought about it all. After a few moments, the farmer pulled out his cheque book. I asked him what he was doing. He asked me what I thought he was doing, and I had to admit that I wasn't quite sure. Maybe he was paying bills or something similar.

"What do you use these things for?"

"Well, it's like saying that you have that much money, and if you give that slip of paper to the bank, they'll give you the money."

The farmer scratched his head. "That's not at all what I use them for."

"Oh. What do you use them for?"

The farmer finished scrawling on the cheque, then stood up and walked outside, beckoning us to follow. The three of us walked out the door and across the lawn to an old covered well. He lifted the lid and began pulling a strong, thin cord out of the well. There was a muted clunking as he drew the cord out, and when he reached the end there was a small metallic box with a lock on it. We took the box and walked over to the fence which bordered the farm. He picked up a nearby stick and began tapping it along the fence posts as we walked, talking of this and that. As we neared the end of the fence, one post issued a different sounding "thunk" than all the others. The farmer stopped and tugged on the fence post which came free from the fence, and a small key dropped out of it. He fitted the key into the lock and opened the lid.

Inside there were three stacks of cheques, each bound with an elastic band.

"What are these?" I asked.

"Whenever I meet someone like you, I listen to what they have to say, and I write it down on one of these cheques, and then I put it out here in this box. It seems like I might want to remember these things."

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That's it. I'm disappointd with how quickly this feeling of happiness passed. So in order to make myself happier, I'ma go finish Lord of the Rings! FINALLY!



I feel like Frodo after this long journey. Or maybe I just want a kiss on the head from Cate Blanchett.