He came back outside after searching around inside Starbucks looking for a piece of paper. The sun has gone to sleep, waking up others across the earth. Bright street lights shine down on top of us lighting up our table. Giving us the ability to see. The guy sitting in the corner gave him a three hole punched lined piece of paper. He does this often. With his venti tea, lid always off and double cupped, piece of paper and pen. Nothing else. His left hand begins to write his heart to his father. I’m looking at Facebook on my computer, even though I should be replying to emails as I had planned. He stops writing, looks up at me and says, “Katrina. You’ve always been a good person.” I am intrigued by my friend. I have been since the first time we met. At the same Starbucks we are at now back in 2008. I wonder if he has ever said anything negative about anyone. I doubt it. He is a peaceful soul, calm and lacks presumption of those he meets. Intentional in the most natural way. Like how water from a brook slowly rolls over the rocks, not knowing exactly where it’s going or what rock it will help smooth out under it’s ruffles. His convictions are still and his questions asked with a powerful depth that comes from his heart. I turn my head to him, “Thank you,” I reply. “I really mean that,” he says in return. He went on to tell me how he has experienced me over the course of our friendship. In his tone, that I’m sure has made those around him feel at ease, he proceeds to explain. I listen intently; as I value the world he creates.