Out for a drive the other day, I stopped briefly at a roadside park along the Hudson River. It was a beautiful afternoon, the sun was shining and leaves were turning bright colors and falling all around. I wanted to spend a few minutes sitting in the sunshine before making my way home to Glens Falls.
Spying a last few monarch butterflies flitting about, I started taking pictures. The river was pretty there, too, the water heavy, peaceful, and wide. I snapped several shots of the butterflies and the park, and when I reached for my water bottle, I noticed some writing in bright silver ink on the picnic table.
That lone word, “gambler,” (with a capital G) glinted in the sunlight. What an odd thing to write, was my first thought. Was it someone’s nickname? A wish? A warning? A confession? Or did they really just love the old Kenny Rogers song that much?
I’ll never know, of course. Or why it was important for the person who wrote it.
It was a kind of strange note to leave, and seemed to be trying to tell me something, like I was meant to read it. I don’t know why, and maybe it’s just my writer’s imagination. But I wanted to preserve the moment, for whenever a time comes that I need a little reminding to maybe take a chance of my own.