Grandpa Rueben explained that he had to move the cows or they would keep eating until their stomachs burst. My cousins and I would laugh. What a sight! “The cows bursting in air!” We thought they were so stupid. How could they ever let that happen?And yet, I find myself in the rockets red glare of a dwindling bag of Twizzlers, wondering who will move me to pastures new. 

The thing is, we think we know. So certain that if it happened to us we would do it differently. And then… knee deep in the situation, things become a little more clear. Maybe we didn’t know. Maybe we understand a little better. Maybe we judge a little less. 

I’d like to think we only had to learn that once. This empathy. But no. I suppose the best we can hope for is a faster journey to pastures new — that we can come to the understanding a little quicker each time. And perhaps in this new field, “they” becomes “we”, and kindness is the only thing that fills us. 

To pastures new.