The blossom, like life, is fleeting

Lenten Reflections #17

While walking in Marshalls Store today, I passed by an elderly woman and saw she had a bright pink cherry blossom wreath in her basket.

“What a beautiful wreath!” I told her.

“It is, isn’t it?” She agreed.

I went on to say the wreath would brighten up any space.

“It’s for my daughter’s grave,” she said, wilting a little. “She died one year ago, and since her tombstone hasn’t been placed yet, I thought I would find a way to use this to dress it up.”

“It’s absolutely perfect,” I said. She went on to tell me her husband also died just three weeks shy of their 75th anniversary, at age 100 and 6 months.

“That’s the way life is,” she continued. I leaned in a little, thinking she was about to give me the secret to what life “is,” but instead, she stared at the flowers on the wreath.

I remembered my years in DC, where the cherry blossom trees define spring and renewal. After a few weeks, the delicate petals on the trees float off, symbolizing the impermanence of our fleeting lives.

As our conversation slowed, she said, ” I’m 95 years old.”

“What a blessing!” I said.

“Sometimes I’m not sure if it is or not.” She said, her voice tired.

“So nice talking to you,” I said…and God bless you…The wreath really is — absolutely perfect.”

She smiled, touched my arm, gave it a mom squeeze, and continued pushing her basket toward the clothing section where her caretaker waited.

What I learned:

My five-minute conversation with one kind, elderly woman was priceless to me, as were the connections we made. I pray she will find peace.

I also pray that maybe someone stop in and chat with my parents when they are out and about. They won’t be at Marshalls, but maybe Goodwill, Trader Joe’s, a yard sale, or the Commissary. Sharing a moment with someone and listening to their stories is lubrication for the soul.

Here’s to Another Good Day!

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia