Remember in The Hunger Games when Katniss picked up a Mockingjay brooch? If I can remember correctly she's handed it in the novel. At one point she's given it as a secret emblem. And as the series continues, the Mockingjay brooch becomes the symbol of tearing down oppressing forces.
I'm not planning any revolution soon. But for my twenty-eighth birthday my friend Sarah gave me a broach. A tiny pin.
"It's just a trinket," said Sarah as she handed me a tiny cardboard box. Within it was a metal sparrow.
"I was thinking of The Happy Prince," she continued. "You do know that story?"
Do I ever? The Oscar Wilde story that could spark something of a tear when I heard it. Probably the first story that gave me the feeling of bittersweet. If you haven't read it your homework is to grab Oscar Wilde's collected stories from your local library and curl up.
But if you have read it, you'll know that receiving such a gift should have significance. I see it as a symbol of kindness. A symbol of hope. A symbol of inclusion.
In the past I have been feeling excluded. One time in particular. Where I was treated as an option, not a friend. Now I want to make sure I don't stoop to that level.
So I vow that I will never ask anyone to leave any event that I'm at. The more the merrier. If you're around do join in.
Unless you pose a threat to public security. I may ask you to step back then.
We should all be included.
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