The Boy

I met a boy on a railroad track.

We were on the famous Rovos Rail from Pretoria to Victoria Falls—think British high society, complete with afternoon tea. One night we stopped in the middle of nowhere, just outside a small village in Zimbabwe.

I was up early, one of the first awake, sitting alone in the open-air observation car at the rear of the train. Sunrise. Solitude. Latte in hand.

I looked down as a boy approached and stood quietly below me, looking up.

We tried to communicate with his broken English. I asked him his name several times, but could never quite make it out. We laughed and talked about his life and dreams….sharing a good while together. I loved his youthful enthusiasm, curiosity, and playfulness.

I was struck by the chasm between his world and mine. And yet—by our ability to connect as fellow humans. I’m glad I met the boy. I wish I had gotten his name.

Thank you, God, for the boy.

Toodling and Noodling,

Stan