Kimo

 Oh, I do not know where all this dying comes from

How many times must we rebel against our own light and brilliance 

before we flash our eyes open to the available worship of living? 

          

I am sitting down at my old cafe. I spent three years inside these walls. 

A customer, Kimo (a man who camps out at a bench here all day with two computer screens, a simple journal, and a quartz crystal) pointed out to me that he loves the coloring of the ceiling in this place. I looked up with curious eyes, realizing that after all of the hours spent in this cafe, I have never once noted the color of the ceiling. A deep blue black. 

Kimo says, 

"A certain shade of night." 

He tells me that when he works in places with high ceilings, he has more expansive thoughts. Breakthroughs. Revelations. That, I think, is the magic of people. The richness of listening to what others may see. I have never noticed the night sky of my old cafe. Now I always will and I bow to that. 

On the drive here today, I saw an ICE agent mace a young man in the eyes, blinding him. Parallel to the main boulevard and amid the clogged toilet of traffic. For everyone to see. For everyone to sink. I drove away taking stock of my feeling of immeasurable fatigue. A small child within me asked, 

"Why?" 

I do not know. I will never know. With a head hung low, I walked into my old cafe. Originally, I was planning on grabbing a tea and reckoning with whatever it was that I just witnessed. Instead, I saw an old regular of mine. Sweet Kimo. A man interested in matcha, telepathy, AI, and so many other beautiful things, I'm sure. He invited me to sit with him. We were laughing immediately and I told him that I no longer work here. That I am good friends with change. 

Kimo said that my old regulars are going to follow my bright laugh all the way to my new job. I recalled that he once talked to me on a day that I was sporting a blue star pimple patch on the space between my eyes-my third eye as my mother would never call it. Giggling kindly, Kimo told me that in his mind, my name is "BBB". I asked him why that was. 

"Bright Blue Bindi." 

Oh, my life. Oh, the people I get to share time and words with. I could spend the whole of this lifetime thanking God and it would not cover an inch of the ocean in my heart. People are good. People are good. There is ICE, but there is Kimo. All is not lost tonight.