Worth
by Jeffrey Taylor

I believe in the great worth of every human soul. Karl, my Chinese American friend who taught me to make miniature cranes from thin origami paper and who played baseball with me on the street in front of his house. Alex, my Mexican American friend who first introduced me to the board game Risk and then told me to hide under his bed as a local gang walked down the street in front of his house. Miguel, our Portuguese American friend who collected condoms from the bushes at our elementary school, and, although I forget her name, the thin Indian American girl who led us to her father's liquor store where we could buy sweets with our nickels and dimes. And then there was Jennifer Horstman, my first crush, my one Mormon friend in my school class, my spelling bee competitor, and the girl my mom babysat from time to time. I remember a buddy of mine asking me questions in the back of our van as my mom drove Jennifer and my friend and I to some after school function. How priceless the moment when Jen asked me what we had talked about and I told her that he asked whether I liked her. She asked what my response was and I said that I kind of liked her and then, scooting closer to me, she said she kind of liked me too. How precious. How priceless.  How my little heart raced!

I believe in the great worth of every human soul. I believe in the love I felt both from and toward each of these elementary school friends. My worry is that someone out there hasn't felt such love, such worth in a long time. I believe that is something worth praying for, something worth going to a holy temple for.

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