When lightning strikes twice

The first time I met you,
I felt the mountains move.
I saw the sky clear and the clouds hide,
The sun casting soft shadows over our campsite.

You gestured to me from across the fire pit,
Asked for my name,
And hit me with a smile that made me forget that it was winter.
You were away from home for far too long,
And I was a traveling teacher with a thirst for learning.
With our lives on our backs, we built a school together,
Sweating and bleeding, digging and painting,
Sleeping in bunks with strangers who soon became family.
And though I only stayed for a week
Before I flew back to tall buildings and needy children,
It was enough to have met you once.

You had a way of appreciating the present for what it was,
For being awake and aware in every passing second,
Open to the people and places you encountered on your journey around the world.
You found beauty and hope in the world around us,
In the trees and the sky, the streams and the rocks,
In the eyes of the storytellers who crossed your path.

I didn’t think people like you existed.
People who poured their souls into the lives of others,
Thoughtful and caring with only the goal to serve the world.
People who woke up before dawn to make the world perfect for everyone else who had yet to rise,
Who looked up at the stars and saw more than just empty space.

I’ve heard it said that for the people who matter the most, time matters less.
That the hours and minutes and seconds that pass between people who mean nothing
Mean nothing compared to the moments with those who do.

And in that one short week, we laid bricks,
Built the foundation of something that would last a lifetime.
We stargazed and laughed by firelight,
When darkness took to the skies and clouds blocked out the moon.
We told stories and fell asleep to the sounds of singing astronauts.

I left on a winter morning,
When the cold wouldn’t let me sleep any longer,
And the sun rose up over the white giants of Tibet.
I packed my bag, ate my oats,
And walked down the mountain without saying goodbye.

And as I left that paradise hidden among the rice terraces,
I heard the trees whisper secrets lost to the winds and the valleys.
Secrets, I realized, that you had learned long ago.

This land is more than the pictures and postcards of the people who came before you.
Sit by the rivers and waterfalls, lie on the hills and mountainsides.
Breathe in the mist of the past and bathe in the seeds of the future.
This land is what you make of it, what you see and what you feel.
It is the first light in the morning, peeking through your eyelids and tickling your fingertips
To the last stars appearing in the night sky as your head hits the pillow and your mind drifts into dreams.
Take your time to appreciate every moment,
For there are too many who let them pass by unnoticed.

 You are someone I could have loved.

When I saw you for the second time in my life,
I was older, braver, wiser.
You jumped up from across the fire pit as someone else yelled my name,
Embraced me in a hug I didn’t know you remembered,
And hit me with a smile that made me forget it was spring.

Months had passed, but at the core, your heart was still the same.
You saw the world through daffodil glasses,
Bringing sun and radiance to storms and clouds,
And light to days that were already sunny.
You made the dark bright and the bright brighter.

You were there to build more than just a school.
You were a visionary with a dream,
A painter who saw each day as a blank canvas.
An artist with fire in your eyes and cherry blossoms in your heart,
Who didn’t sleep when it was easy,
Didn’t stop when it was hard,
And always gave more than was asked.
A true leader with an audible smile
Who would be remembered long after you had gone,
Immortalized in kindness and generosity,
Inherited as a lesson for the generations to come.

I fell in love with the way you looked at life.

You left on a spring morning
When the heat wouldn’t let you sleep any longer,
And the sun rose up over the white giants of Tibet.
You packed your bags, left your tent,
And walked down the mountain without saying goodbye.

I still think about you sometimes,
Whenever I’m unsure about where I’m headed
Or I feel like I’ve lost my way.
I think about the people we became in those mountains,
Our group of backpackers trying our best to make a difference.
You told us that we were our best selves there,
But that we didn’t need that mountain to feel this way,
That we deserved this happiness in every day of our lives.

And though I only knew you for a few short weeks
Before you traded in bucket showers and tents
For airplanes and missed milestones,
I didn’t feel sadness when your backpack disappeared into the horizon.
Instead, I felt blessed,
Lucky and fortunate beyond belief,
For the chance to have met you twice.