“It comes from nowhere. I’m standing under a tree in Griffith Park. Smelling the eucalyptus trees. And clear, so clear. I remember when I was 8 or 9 years old. In the car, on Sundays. Riding in the country looking for a forest and lakes. Well. Here we are, being a family. I see this thing I know I will never forget. A white wooden house. A one story frame house with a sky blue trim around the windows. And a young man leaning in the doorway.
It’s a sunday moment. His family have been visiting. Mom and dad are just getting in the car, a beat up old Buick, and waving goodbye; “Goodbye!”. And the dog is running in the yard. The dog. And the young man is perfect. He’s a perfect moment. A frayed old shirt and worn jeans. And I wanna yell; “Hey. Mister. Rescue me. From the small place between these people. I say to my mom and dad, from the small space between the candy and the seltzer water and the bags of apples for the ride. I wanna stay with you and your dog and the door and the yard. Please.”
And he doesn’t see me. The guy in the door. And he doesn’t know, and he never will, that I was close and I whispered “ Please. Yes, please. A dog. A yard. A home.”
And all of us have been seen. All of us. By sad young kids in passing cars and buses. And each one of us some time some where has made someone who is small and sad look twice and say “Please. That’s someone I can want and love and be. Yes. Please.” “