All the Little Things
By Bob Boyd
Preface by the author:
This was a piece that I wrestled with completing. I was very much caught up with the possibility of offending or stepping on the toes of many a close friend. Then it occurred to me, thanks to Earnest Hemingway that a bold writer would just write, build his own crucifix out of redwood trees and lightening bolts. He would crash his own Hindenburg into the emotions of his audience without knowing the outcome, only believing that it meant something to him. This means something to me.
It takes fewer muscles to smile then to frown, so logically people should all smile simply because of its convenience. Scowls continue to thrive, regardless, as a testament to the perpetual irrationality and frailty of the human condition.
That’s why when you miss seeing a smile that you count on, it hurts. Not like a bullet in the leg, crippling you with pain. It hurts like a jab of hunger; a day without eating. It leaves you drained, dried out, and, at times, desperate for a miracle. Sometimes when a smile escapes your life it takes with it a loved one. It leaves a sinkhole where a stepping stone should be. It melts away a beautiful unique snowflake like a hot breath and leaves you with a teardrop of precipitation.
However, jubilant smiles are never overlooked. You may not know that particular grin but it knows you enough to fix your broken eyes and send on your way in a much better mood. That power and love is what we lose with Elizabeth Patton. This smile that brought the blessing of peace, no doubt, served to advertise a person who was outstanding an exuberant in the art living. Even an ignorant passerby will never forget a brilliant smile that brought contemplation to his mood and warmth to his heart.