While my wife was shopping for “mom jeans”, I decided to sit on a bench next to another man who appeared equally disinterested in the mall. As I nestled into the hard seat, he grumbled, “Pretzels smell good, don’t they?” I agreed, and we began a ten-minute conversation about food court cuisine. He was a friendly old grump, who must’ve known I’m the type who likes playful conversation with strangers. We joked about people passing by and tried to decide what stores they were coming from and going to. Nobody was dressed the part of a serious fashionista, but everyone seemed to have a destination with several bags in tow. And most didn’t notice our antics, as they were all more interested with handheld rectangles. “I don’t have one…don’t have the need nor the want,” he scoffed. He quickly segued to something he could speak about with confidence. “My granddaughter does gymnastics. Boy, what I’d give to do a cartwheel like she can. She’s full of it. She’s a real lionheart.” The old man smiled wide as he gazed over the food court and presumably into his recent past. I’m sure he was picturing his granddaughter’s face.
I’ve been searching for lionhearts ever since that day in the mall with the grump on the bench. Courage and bravery can be hard to find when you’re looking for it, but I’ve discovered most heroes are never too far away. To be fearless—to love and to be loved—lionhearts we all may be.
11/4/2025
Wyatt LeGrand
