Food For Thought

The morning was early but I was late. That’s probably why I didn’t pay attention to the cars in the care home parking lot.  I would surely have noticed the distinctive black mortuary vehicle.   Whooshing automatic doors proclaimed my entrance, startling the woman who stood just inside, dressed in business black, her hands resting on the handle of an empty stretcher. “Good morning” stuck in my throat, turning into a solemn nod of greeting.  Moments later, at the piano in the still-dark lounge, my fingers found  ‘It Is Well With My Soul’. Tears ambushed me. The suddenness of death had surprised a family this morning. I heard elevator doors close with efficient finality upon the stretcher and its custodian, whisking both to their appointed destination. Incongruous laughter bubbled above my softly played hymn as various staff arrived for their shifts, exclaiming over one another’s Hallowe'en attire.  Above the laughter, a quiet loudspeaker announcement extended an ...

 The scent of hyacinths is redolent in the sunny courtyard on this early spring morning. I revel in having this beautiful refuge of lush new life all to myself. Every dew drop, every trilling note of the robins and even the impatient darting hummingbirds (why is she pausing instead of refilling my feeder?) bring a song of joy to my heart.  From the other end of the courtyard I hear steady gentle tapping. A weathered Australian bush hat appears and disappears between shrubbery.  “Oh what a beautiful morning!”  From behind a rhododendron an aged voice rasps out the first line of a chorus from the musical, Oklahoma. “Oh what a beautiful day!” I sing out in happy reply, loving this song that I learned in first grade.  “I’ve got a beautiful feeling” The response is heartier, rasp vanishing, as an elderly blind man emerges,  tapping his cane to find the path again. We both inhale as one, in awe of this unexpected gift - life! Music! A shared experience needing no...

 Katerina is my server this morning. Her sweet spirit is always a tonic, feeding my soul as much as the steaming hazelnut latte nourishes my body.  “How are your family?” I always check in with her. She is alone in Canada; her family are in a ‘safe’ part of Ukraine.  She smiles warmly, pleased that I ask after them - that I think of them at all.  “Oh, they are well, thank you for asking!” I say how glad I am to hear this, in view of escalating war news. “Oh yes, of course there are bombs now, every day, but they are fine!” She radiates peace and even...joy? I express my concern that they are now being directly impacted.  Katerina shrugs, still smiling. “This is our life” she says, now clearly speaking for her country. Calm.  Stoic? No, everything about her says this is her normal. I savour a first sip as she cheerfully serves a new customer and realize - this is what bravery looks like.