Random Act of Kindness…

So, today I went about my usual routine. I went to Cafe Beano for coffee. The wonderful part of my recent visits is, I have been adopted by a wonderful group of seniors. They have been a fixture at Beano for a very long time. Always laughing and having great debates about politics, religion and anything else that comes to mind. Moira and Tets just got back from Scotland where they visit for four months out of the year and were giving out presents to Peter and Damla when I arrived. They didn’t know that I had been joining Peter and Damla over the past couple of months and were pleasantly surprised when I sat down. Beano U is what Peter calls the morning discussions and this one was about Scottish independence.

Well, the next morning I sat down, coffee in hand and Moira reaches into her bag and hands me a gift. She has a wonderful way of wrapping them. As a former librarian, she came across a pile of maps that were going to be thrown out and now uses them for, well, wrapping paper. She takes twine, and apparently it has to be linen twine as all other twine is crap, and ties it around the gift neatly. It has a wonderful heart felt simplicity that is classic and not pretentious. You know that the gift is meant as a gesture of friendship. It’s pure class. I was a little taken aback as I didn’t expect this. I thanked her and within thirty seconds they were gone as it was 9am; the time they have to leave.

I sat with the gift for awhile and though about opening it right there but decided to wait till later that afternoon. I wanted to let this random act of kindness linger for as long as I could. It was amazing to me to have someone that I don’t know very well at all, take the time to pick one of the items they had brought back from overseas and wrap it with a simple intent.

To make my day a little brighter. She succeeded.

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Runaway Train…

 

Sugar Maker

 

Moving slowly at first the subtle sway feels soothing as the clack clack of track under steel wheels, begins to form those familiar rhythms that seem so far back in my memory. As if being held by my mother in the maple wood rocking chair so long ago.

And out the window, things that are closest to me blur into shades of brown, light against dark. I focus on the horizon, seeing dreams in the distant haze, but always on the edge,

never closer.

Faster

The sway, dangerous and unnerving, brings panic. I look around and see others looking out their glowing laptop windows, heads down, at reruns of Honey Boo-Boo and Keeping up with the Kardashians, hyperlinking to dreams of cars, houses and shoes.

In a trance, on track, to a better life…

And I begin to realize what this really means…

And I want off

The Garden…

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Wandering around inside my mind,

A garden holds memories.

Each a blade of grass,

a leaf,

an insect buzzing one of many flowers.

 

To white walls and loving eyes we are brought into this world,

where unseen hands tend new experience

that thrusts instantly towards the open clear skies.

Our minds lush with planted beliefs and seeded memory,

and fed by the warm light of laughter

or the cool rains of gray days, they flourish and spread,

or curl and become distant.

 

And for a time we sit, and hold our ground,

stake out our spot on the grass amidst the Trembling Aspens and shout out to the world,

our place.

But as we lay back and look up at the leaves shimmering in the wind and sun we wonder,

how much of this garden

is truly

our own.