This month, a new voice joins our pages. Not loud, not urgent, but present.
Pele – some folks say Pell-ay, others Pell-ee; he doesn’t mind, he just likes being called –came from the drawer of forgotten things. A button here, a scrap of fabric there, stitched together by someone who didn’t know what to do, only that they needed to do something.
Now he watches. Listens. Sometimes he says a little.
“It’s been windy lately. The kind of wind that doesn’t ask before it takes your hat. Or your list. Or your thoughts. One of mine blew off last Tuesday. I think it was a good one. But you never really know.
I’ve been sitting on windowsills more lately. Watching. Listening. People pass by with their heads low and their feet fast. They’re in a hurry, but I’m not sure where to. Maybe they aren’t, either.
A boy held the door open for three people in a row today. Didn’t look up. Didn’t expect a thank-you. Just did it. Like it was nothing. But it felt like something.
Someone said the world’s gone mad. Maybe. But the daffodils came back anyway. Stubborn little things.
I don’t know much. I’m mostly stuffing and thread. But I think some days, the bravest thing you can do is wave to a neighbor. Or sit still. Or listen.
Anyway. That’s what I’ve noticed.” – Pele
If you’d like a little listener of your own, keep an eye on pellere.org/pele. More on that soon, if the wind allows.
