The Plastic Fork

Once upon a time, there was a white plastic fork.

I have this weird emotional relationship with this fork the two weeks I returned to Oxford, OH. I would pass by it every time I had to go the main office to pick up my mail or use the fitness center. I took the same path every time regardless if it was sunny or raining out.

I didn’t pick it up because I was rushing and thinking someone would pick it up. Apparently, no one would pick it up. I wondered. It wouldn’t go away; the wind didn’t take it, either. Though, it did seem cleaner every time.

Every time I met plastic fork, I thought of the following things.
Where did you are from? What happened? Who left you? What will happen when similar things like your multipliers?

It made me think; you don’t know what someone is going through just by their appearances. Their experiences, memories, thoughts, and something you can read.

Second, things don’t happen alone. Don’t assume, it work out or someone else to solve it. Take action. You know something will happen when you take the initiative with your hands.