can you feel it?

Every time I get off work at six there’s a man who stands on the crest of a hill in a graveyard on the way home. Always alone, with his hands tucked into the crevices of his pockets. He wasn’t there the past few nights and I was worried about him. He’s there tonight. I pray for him a lot. Does he know?

It was raining and grey all today, and as I handed people their coffee and their food I bid them a good night. I told them to drive safe, and more than not looked surprised before they uttered the same to me. I don’t drive, they don’t know that. I wish them well and they return the sentiment, even caught off guard.

I imagine hugging the people who come in looking sad, and I make sure to use my eyes when I smile at them so they can tell behind the masks. When I’m bored I draw stars and smiles on the cups, hoping they reach someone who needs them.

I pray over people walking along the side of the road, and I wish for cyclists to get home safe. Do they know? Can they feel it?

I try to offer what comfort and protection I can. I hope it’s received.

People are damaged. We innately want to be cared for. Too many people are alone. I hope they find someone to hold their hand.

I’m hoping you have a good night. I’m hoping you’re safe. Do you know? Can you feel it?