I guess you could call me a closet revolutionary. It isn't that I want to hide my beliefs, or that I'm ashamed of them -- I think it has more to do with fact that I live in a small town. I know that people romanticize the life, and yes, I do love it here for all it's faults -- but the people here aren't quirky, or quaint. Most of them are racist, gun-toting, bible-banging assholes. (Don't get me wrong, they're good people, and I love them for that. We may have different world views, but they're still my family in a way that I really can't explain.) anyways. I'd talk to him. Despite all my fears and apprehensions and anxieties, I'd force myself to talk to him. I'd tell him how I'm going to China with Global Volunteers in a few years, how I hope to work all throughout the world, and I'd tell him how inspirational I find him, because he is a person who can put himself on the front lines of inequality and suffering in this world and change it in a way that I'd never have the courage to do. I wish I was that brave. I'd probably tell him that, too -- because when I appreciate someone's existence I typically can't keep it to myself for very long. I hope I wouldn't run him off with my excited rambling about the masses of abandoned girls in China that I desperately want to help, the victims of the dowry system in India, the need for programs that do long-term, sustainable work that actually makes a difference, because how can I sit back and know this is happening and not do anything about it -- ? I hope he'd understand. I like to think he would.
I might just hug him. Actually, I would hug him. I know he wouldn't mind, and sometimes you just need a good hug, okay? I've always thought that Couf's hugs would be warm and soft and strong -- those big bear hugs that seem to make everything better in an instant? I imagine that's what his hugs would be like. Despite my shyness, I'm a very affectionate person. I hope he wouldn't mind the request for a second hug, and maybe a third -- okay, maybe they aren't such a good idea, because he's rather large in comparison to all 4'11" and 95 pounds of me. I wouldn't care. I know he'd be gentle. sometimes, when you're sad, a little bit of affection from a stranger can be a balm better than sunshine or hot tea or chocolate chip cookies -- and I'll admit, I'm sad more often than I wish I was -- so I might contemplate keeping him. I probably wouldn't follow through, though. I don't think my mom would like that very much.
