“When you walk funny and fall over”, I told my blogger-friend Brad, “you attract all kinds of people! If it weren’t for the pain and embarrassment, I’d recommend it highly.”
“I’m not quite ready to do it your way”, he replied. “But I appreciate your great attitude.”
Life can be tough for all of us.
So I write crazy poems to make myself laugh.
And I look for ways to make my friends, neighbours and relatives smile.
There are many good people in my world. These flowers are my way of saying thanks for their kind gestures.
- Like Bill and Dorothy, the elderly couple who recently came and sat with my husband and me in a village cafe. We were strangers there, and they were just leaving. But they saw us, smiled back, then came over and spent a good 4o minutes with us. Turns out we have a mutual friend. And much else in common. Like apple trees, primitive furniture, verandahs and several other things.
- Like the young Muslim men who all rushed to open the door for me one day. I smiled my thanks. And suddenly remembered that I, too, used to rush to open doors for people with disabilities.
- Like my librarians, who greet me like a long-lost relative whenever I show up.
- Like the young parking policeman, who informed me that, because I am disabled, I may park my car in no-parking spots on the street (except for rush hour, at fire hydrants etc.). I still won’t do it, but ’twas good to know.
- Like Jane, who brought a little footstool to church — so I may rest my foot on it during Sunday service.
- Like my husband, who weeded the jungle-path in Mama’s Garden AND helped me up from the ground without scolding. I had been stuck there, after trying to pick a few weeds.
- Like Lydia, who offered to help with the garden.
- Like Rita and Rex, who saw my book prominently displayed at a library and immediately emailed me to say A Good Home “is a staff-pick at the Orillia Public Library!”
- And finally — like the church-friend whose son is bravely — and sometimes painfully — gender-transitioning. I had felt helpless because I simply didn’t know how to support this lovely family.
“You came right up and hugged him on Christmas Eve at church,” she reassured me. “You’ll never know how important that was to him — and to our whole family.”
I didn’t know on Christmas Eve. But I think I do now.
Sometimes, it’s the small, ordinary gestures that lift a person up and make our day.
Bless you all.
Photos by Hamlin Grange