A girl in my high school that I never knew
but saw a lot used to go around every
corner in the hallway as if she’d never
been there before. She’d lean way out to the
side to look, almost on one foot,
the other stretched behind, as if to see it
for the first time, as if to check it out before
she committed to making the turn. But she
always made the turn. It wasn’t fearful, just
a pause, a moment of expectation. “Look,”
she told herself, “I’m turning a corner!” I loved
it. Whenever I saw her do it I’d walk into my
next classroom with a little bit of anticipation,
even under pretense, a little expectation that
I might be surprised. Or I might actually turn
a corner and actually do something
for the first time. And I often surprised
myself. I looked as if for the first time, and
often saw something for the first time. Or saw
somebody I’d seen a thousand times as if
for the first time. I still love her for it.
May the corner you turn next be an opening,
an adventure. Look! You’re turning a corner!
May even a thing you’ve done a thousand times
be the first time you’ve ever done it, a surprise.
And if it is truly a new thing, imagine Jesus
leaning out around the corner on one leg, looking,
and looking back at you, smiling, then disappearing
around the corner.
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