As I stand outside, taking in the fresh spring air, enjoying the warm sun on my face, I start to contemplate my life. I have a great job. I live in a great city, the most beautiful one in Canada, i think. But my health is not perfect. I just lost a very dear friend. My spirit is troubled. I need to change something, but I am not sure what. I am unsettled. I think to myself that something has to give, something… and soon… this situation is bad for my spirit.
A woman approaches me, barreling up the street, obviously on a mission… her hands are full of plastic shopping bags, and cradled in one arm, she has a freshly picked bunch of pretty purple flowers. She shuffles up to me and stops, looking into my eyes. I am stricken by her natural beauty. Her blond hair, streaked wildly with silver, is unkempt but frames her aging face nicely. Her silver/ gray eyes tell the tale of a life somewhat trying, yet full of love and kindness. She smiles, though her body language screams of her rushed state, her smile is genuine and contagious. A warm smile spreads instantly across my face, and I say ‘hello’.
“Hi,” she replies, her warmth radiating from her like a summer breeze. “Do you know where the lawnmower repair shop is? I was told it was in this area…” She looks around, examining the buildings up and down the block.
“Hmmm… I haven’t actually seen one anywhere around here. Though I can’t honestly say that I have ever looked for one, so I am not entirely sure” I start examining the buildings with her, searching for anything that would indicate a place that fixes lawnmowers. I think to myself that I have never actually heard of a lawnmower repair shop, but I look anyways, because I just want to help this lovely being.
A man from the shop next door calls over… “there is a mechanic three doors down, that way,” he points in the direction she was originally headed, “I am pretty sure he does small engine repair”.
I smile at the man and say “thank you” at the same time as the lady does. She turns and starts to walk away. She takes two steps, then stops short and spins around. She looks different somehow, yet not. Her eyes seem to be radiating, and she seems to be a little less awkward with her burdens. She takes the two steps back toward me, and leans in close. She doesn’t whisper, but I am sure that her words only reach my ears.
“Thank you” she says, giving me the most odd feeling that she was thanking me for something more than trying to help her find the lawnmower place. She fumbles with her bags a bit until one of her hands is free enough to pluck one of the pretty sprigs of purple flowers and she sets it in the crook of my left arm. “These flowers… they are good for the spirit” She winks at me, then turns on her heel and barrels down the street once more.
I stand there, silently watching her walk away, a warm feeling washing over me. I feel… protected. And peaceful.
As I turn to go back into the building where I work, it occurs to me that the woman did not have a lawnmower, and I think to myself, ‘I wonder what she was here to repair’ as I slowly turn the flowers over in my fingers.