This was originally published on September 17, 2012. For such a time as this, it needs to be published again.

I was in elementary school in the mid 1960’s.
A different time; a different era.
A time of separation.

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In this time of uncertainty and confusion, the best thing we can do is put beauty into the world.
We can add a touch here and a glimpse there.
We can change the course of conversation away from gloom and towards joy.
Yes, there is still joy.

We hear the word, contagion.
We hear the word, virus.
We hear the word, pandemic.
We hear the words, social distancing.

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There is a crooked tree.
I see it on my walk.
I love that tree.
It speaks to my heart.

I am intrigued by the lone dandelion that stands proudly in the middle of the lawn.
The one dandelion that has somehow survived the organic lawn treatment.
The one dandelion that screams tenacity.
The pop of yellow in a sea of green.

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She stood in front of me in line.
I figured she was about my daughter’s age.
She looked so comfortable in her leggings and long tunic sweatshirt.
I was eager to get home and change into my comfy clothes as well.

She was wearing sneakers.
I made a mental note that this is my attire most mornings.
There is something about comfort.
It is worth the wardrobe change.

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Every other Wednesday, I teach a Bible study in my home.
These women are so sweet.
Some of us have been together in Bible study for years.
The women really enjoy each other’s company.

The first twenty or thirty minutes is a time for the women to talk.
I usually bake something that morning.
Coffee and hot water for tea is on the counter.
This time of year, mulled cider is simmering on the stove.

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I had a little toddler over for lunch.
He came with his mother and his baby brother.
His mother is a college friend of my daughter, who is the mother of our granddaughter.
It was such a delight to have these young moms and their children at my table.

The little boy is almost two and a half years old.
I knew the kind of toys to get out for him.
I couldn’t wait to see how my granddaughter and the little boy might play together.
At this age, they engage in parallel play, which is simply playing alongside.

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I met a friend for lunch.
We were so glad to have this time together.
It would not be a long lunch, since she was on her lunch hour.
We hugged our hello.

You smell good, I said to her.
What perfume are you wearing?
Oh, Gina, you know how I love perfume, she said.
I do know that; she wears so many different perfumes.

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My husband and son were talking.
I was standing off to the side.
My youngest granddaughter was in her walker, watching and listening.
I was standing behind her.

When I joined in the conversation, my granddaughter heard my voice.
She immediately turned almost completely around in order to see me.
Her determination to see my face touched my heart.
I got down on the floor right next to her so she could see me clearly.

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There was something that delighted me when I was a girl.
To some, it was a nuisance.
To some it was a weed.
To me, it was magical.

The yellow flower just begged to be picked.
Since so many could be found, a small bouquet was formed in my hand.
I thought they were so pretty.
I quickly learned that this yellow flower was not something people wanted on their lawns.

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A few months ago I had breakfast with a dear friend from high school.
We talked about anything and everything that morning.
We caught up on our lives.
It was such a refreshing morning.

During our conversation, we somehow began talking about technology.
She told me a story.
My friend works at a hospital.
She was remembering something that happened at lunch one day.

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