“Run Forrest, run.”
And he ran. For “no particular reason. People just couldn’t understand it.”
I had never seen Forrest Gump before this evening, and like so many before, I found myself falling in love with the careful southern drawl sharing his mama’s wisdom.
He ran and fought and saved lives. He loved and cried and spoke. He worked. Most importantly, he was loved.
“My mama used to say you can tell a lot about a person from his shoes.”
His mama cared for him. Told him he was no different. She loved him just the way he was and was never ashamed of him. He was exposed to travelers and happenstances. He remembered clear lakes and sunrises. He collected a feather and his favorite book was Curious George.
He is a character.
But I’m pretty sure we are too.
Characters waiting to see what shows up in our box of chocolates.
I met two Canadian protagonists today. Matt and Liam have surfed and wandered their way through Australia and New Zealand. Unlike the many backpackers who choose to mosey about, they have chosen this temporary lifestyle for a vastly different reason than most. They are not here to drink. Nor are they here to find themselves. They are here to be themselves.
And that makes a huge difference.
Play guitar and piano. Know goodbyes aren’t necessarily forever. Travel alone. And go home.
But not because you have to
Because you want to.
perhaps I’ll tell your story to a stranger at a bus stop, just to see how long they listen