colossus

As a rule, I see my mother once a day. I get up, walk the dog, have breakfast, then head over to the nursing home. My father will be already there. He spends the morning there, and sometimes much of the afternoon. He comes and sits by her bed, speaks to her, plays her music on a little stereo he bought on eBay, and (most of all) watches out for her.

They are in awe of him. I mean, the staff at the home. He is there every day. Rain or shine. Snow or sleet. He is there. He comes and is with her. He is her companion. Her guardian. Her support. No matter what.

If you saw him, not knowing, you would see a very small man, very old, wearing ill fitting clothing that we can never get him to change, his hair unkempt…

You would dismiss him.

You would be wrong to do so.

Remember the saying about entertaining angels unaware? With him, it is the titan that is concealed. The giant. The more-than-man.

How frail the flesh. How fragile the bone. But perceive him correctly. You will see the monolith. The shimmering entity. The colossus at the edge of cosmos. The gaze which seeks the infinite.

And will, in time, obtain it.