Smiling, he has a white piece of paper in his hand -- a grid of sorts, with writing on it. He hands it to me. 'Please,' he says, handing it to me. I'm not sure what he wants. He's making this shape with his hands -- a box, no, a rectangle, no... Then finally, he gets the word, 'Please, laminate.' Ah!
'Laminate for me?' he asks.
Is it for business, I ask him. His face falls. No, he says. He knows they are not to ask for anything personal to be laminated. I look at the sheet. It is his son's report card from the Jamaica Road Kinder-Care Center.
'Oh, I'll do it for you!' I tell him. Just one of those tiny bright spots in a day. A moment of clarity amongst many muddied instances of what seems to be hopelessness in this country. A gentle reminder that parents of any color or creed just love being proud of their kids. In short, it was just what I needed as I enter into the second half of this journey. As apathy tries to push itself into my heart.
One of the best parts of this story? The dad/dayworker's name is Billy Elliott!
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