There are moments that dance in my head throughout life. Like the Northern Lights, they appear uprovoked, they are just there under the surface and enter my thoughts univited, but welcome, and that’s the way it should be:
I was driving from Gothenburg to Stockholm with my son and his two friends. We stopped in your quiet little town called Hjo and bought some snacks and drinks.
Whilst sitting in the town square, you came and joined us on the benches like you were part of us. You must have been twelve or thirteen years-old and you appeared as lonely as a lighthouse. Were you restless, just bored. Was attaching yourself to four strangers from Scotland the most excitement you had that day?
We got up and left without uttering a word to you and continued our journey.
I often think of you, the lonely little girl from the lonely little girl from Jo. Did you sink in the silence we left behind?
I’m sorry, we should have said hello. We could have got your details and we would have got a young friend or my daughter to be your penpal, but, the Owl of Minerva Flies at Dusk; it was an afterthought.
You changed my life, now I always say hello to lonely people and give them some company for a while. I’m always vigilant to those in my imediate surounding.
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