I wanted, and needed, to write about and for a group of boys I greatly admire. And even though I don’t know them, they have been on my mind a lot lately.
Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been reading the things Tim Barrus and his boys of Smash Street have been posting to Medium. Medium tells me he’ll get a notice since I used his name like that. I also noticed he followed me recently (thank you, I really am honored)
I have been reading. Not as much as I should and not every day. Some days I’m not up to it. That’s the privilege I have, I can not look when the heartbreak is inconvenient. I can go and hug my 4 year old who hugs me back and my teen who rolls her eyes (but doesn’t push me away either). Sometimes I feel ashamed because it feels like I’m a misery-tourist. I’m not doing anything at all to help. Before today I’ve not even offered any words of encouragement or comfort. I’ve tried. I’ve looked at a blinking cursor in a blank field what should have been my comment, and been completely at loss for words.
That’s fear. I’m afraid I would hurt them. Do these boys need to hear a adult sends them love? Yes, probably they do, but from a stranger? I can kind of imagine someone telling the boys “Hey there’s a privileged lady that wishes us well”. That sounds empty.
So I read. I think the reason they are writing is because they want to be heard. That’s one thing I can do. I can read them and hear them. Click the heart to acknowledge them. Anyone reading this, it takes so little. Please do that, too.
Today I realized there is one little thing I can do that might actually mean something. I can share something with them. They might already know it, but on the off-chance that they don’t I’m writing this today.
Tim, when, if you read this, know I am in awe of what you are doing. I am in awe of what your boys do. I wish all of you all the good things in the world. I heard this song and immediately my mind went to you.