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Community care and the wind in our sails: Gift of the Black Pearl

Community care and the wind in our sails: Gift of the Black Pearl

Community care and the wind in our sails

Gift of the Black Pearl

Your apartment complex hosted an outdoor movie night at the pool, and it healed something in all of you.

Neighbors voted between 3 movies, but who even cares what the other two were? By a landslide, Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl was the obvious choice.

When your partner got home from the office that day, you were both practically giddy. You swim-suited up early and headed to the pool to claim the best chairs.

You read books and held hands as neighbors trickled in. The property manager rented a popcorn machine, which was handed out for free with soft drinks.

That morning, you’d prepped and packed the motherlode: fresh pineapple, rainier cherries, baby carrots, pretzels, plantain chips, cookies, a 6-pack of local beer. Budding friends passed mismatched dishes and cans generously.

By the time the sun began to set, the place was hopping. Couples, families, and college-aged groups watched the movie from lounge chairs, inner tubes, and directly from the shallows. Entire families with apartments facing the pool even watched from their patios.

Anyone who grew up watching Pirates quoted favorite lines with gusto; to the delight of children experiencing the action for the first time. Kids shrieked with laughter as parents made mini waves in the water to accompany the big ocean battle scenes.

Surely cooped up after another day of scorching summer heat, it became an unspoken village responsibility to keep the little ones safe and entertained. The task was accepted warmly, without question or complaint.

Tomorrow, who knew? But tonight, you were all one crew.

“Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.” — Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl

By the time the ending was happy and credits rolled, the complex was all smiles. None of you realized how much you’d needed this moment together.

The atmosphere felt joyful; revitalized in a way that’d been tough to come by in this worrying timeline. It was a productive kind of hope, like it could be paid forward and put to use.

When was the last time you’d been to a free community event, without expectation to buy or do anything other than enjoy? When did you last offer to drop by a friend’s house to keep them company while they do chores?

Community comes together if we let it.

What if we let it?