MY
SHIRT
Love. It’s a simple but
overused word. I love you. I love this song! I absolutely loved that
movie! The word doesn’t mean much anymore, not to most. Some people
scoff at it. We throw it around like a used shirt, wearing it because
it’s comfortable, safe, and secure, but never truly understanding why we
have it. We lend it out, forget about it, and years later, we think,
“Hey, I really liked that shirt.”
But do we care? No. It’s probably gone now, thrown away because of a rip
or sold for $3 at a garage sale. We forget; it doesn’t matter after
that.
Then we see the world fall apart. From the safety of our living rooms we
watch amateur video on the news or Internet, and sometimes we feel so
helpless and alone we’re not sure what to do. We cry for the inhumanity,
scream for the injustice, and wonder why the world is this way. We think
we can change the world; we know we want to help those who need it most
… then we remember that T-shirt we threw out years ago.
We want it back; we fight and scramble for it. We go out and buy new
shirts, try them on, but none seems to fit. We’ve lost it – we’ve lost
love. We are unnerved for a bit; we sit alone and beat ourselves up for
letting it go. Then we just we shrug it off. We say, “I’ll do it later”
or “I’m too busy.” I’m guilty of it too: “I don’t have the right
resources” or “I’m too young” or “No one will care.” And it seems as if
no one does. With high school students only bent on the next party or
who’s dating whom, you wonder if, in the end, their shirts were ever
worn.
Is my generation going to save the world? We try, a small group of us,
but our shirts are faded among the bright colours of greed and the
everyday and the wanting. We are pushed into the background. We try to
push our way through the crowds, and we truly wonder: where has the love
gone?
I don’t want my love to fade; though my shirt is tattered and worn, I
wear it daily. I am honest and open, and when I say that simple, dead,
four-letter word, I mean it. I know I’ve made mistakes with it in the
past and I almost threw my shirt away; I carry it carefully now. It’s
close to my heart, where it’s meant to be. I do lend it out every once
in a while – I let those who need it try it on and feel the safety that
I feel. I leave them pieces when I go, but my shirt never seems to tear.
It stays just as simple as it ever was.
When the time comes, I will stand alone in this world and stare into the
eyes of those with the shirts of greed and want and lust, and I will
know that even though mine is not the most beautiful shirt in the crowd,
it’s among the best. |