Monday night, I spent time with a couple who lived in a brownstone. It was gothic, chic and lovely all at the same time. The lights were dimed low and the aroma of kente oil and expensive candles filled the air. They were a couple who had unsual things in common. Things that a couple shouldn't have in common. They weren't "complementary" if you know what I mean. I came to participate in there "un-complementary-ness." So I sat on there comfy leather couch and watched re-runs. The conversation was interesting but bane. It was empty. It lacked substance. I left feeling more empty and a cast away then when I walked through the foyer.
Tuesday night, I spent time with a couple who lived in a quaint house on Rintin. I was simply and decorated with pictures of friends and family. The lights were on high. The couple was complementary. They had different opinions, but were focused on the same goal. We came together to bow our heads and put our hands together. Through our lips words of praise escaped as we simontaneously rolled beads with our finger tips. Then they serve me watered down hot cocoa, which was okay because it was the conversation that was rich. It went down better than the cocoa. I left filling warm and uplifted. For I had found truth, but never would have realized it if I hadn't suffered the night before.
