Shared lunch with a new friend last week.
Friend: So how’s the diet coming?
Dieter: Had one egg for breakfast.
I can hear my son, “Mom, just say it was a joke instead of trying to make it sound like a story or conversation.”
Well, it’s a joke, but the lunch and Shirley, my friend, are real. It’s her joke.
Spring’s back. She’s no wimp, hiding in Florida until she’s positive winter’s gone into full-on hibernation. Last time I checked the Forsythia bush, it seemed to be warming up to the idea of blooming. A Willow up the road looks a tad yellower than last week. That’s a good sign. Most Christmas decorations have found their places in attics, basements or landfills, except for a few browning wreaths and downtown Gloucester’s red banners sprinkled with permanent snowflakes. They’ll get around to swapping them out before the St.Peter’s Festival come June
Signs of winter continue to melt away. Our condo association pulled up the orange spikes, designed to keep snowplows and shovelers off the grass, which we have little of to begin with, but I appreciate the thought. Shaw’s market’s designated space for Cadbury, pastel colored candies, dyes for eggs, sure signs Easter’s coming. The newspaper’s full of ads for Easter clothes, garden supplies and reminders to book early for Easter brunch or lunch here or there.
Then, there’s Lent.
How does one do Lent in this culture of stuff and such?
.Went to Wegman’s Friday night. Not my usual grocery store, but it was Friday night and I craved adventure. At my age that’s about as exciting as it gets, pushing a cart up and down new aisles, hoping for free samples.
Sometimes I suffer from low expectations.
After finding a place in the massive parking garage, I headed for the entrance, when I heard singing. Turned around and saw the cart man, helping someone back out safely, as he sang. I stopped to listen.
‘You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know, dear, how much I LOVE YOU. Please, don’t take my sunshine away.”
Some would say, “He’s limited in what he can do. Probably, being a cart man is all he can aspire to.”
To me, he was a preacher, guest soloist and usher, wrapped in a glow-in-the-dark jacket, reminding all who came for mere groceries or free samples, there’s something more.
Time to reflect on the one who whispers or sings, “You’ll never know, dear, how much I LOVE YOU.”
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