A Torch

by MW Cook

I just watched the Olympic torch run through Thorncliffe Park. Wild, eh? Not something you see every day. When you think about it, it’s actually pretty special that I saw it? How many times are the Olympics held in Canada? How many times has the route the torch takes been right in front of my house? Odds are I’ll never see the silly thing again.

But it isn’t a silly thing. I don’t know about you, but I love the Olympics.

But the funny thing is, I don’t really care about the games.

For me, the Olympics symbolizes something. I saw the crowds this morning, all smiling in the freezing morning air, clapping, waving flags and cheering a stranger on. I saw them hoping. I saw them rejoicing. In what? I don’t really know.

I was rejoicing in unity. I was rejoicing that we can, as diverse humans, put problems aside for a while and play a few games together. I was rejoicing that we don’t take life so seriously that political squabbles can get in the way of a good hockey game.

Rejoice with me.

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