I spoke with a man who loved his craft, creating jewelry out of stones and wire wrapping found objects. He had a story for every piece he selected. He said his wife was the business savvy one in the pair. She had a logical brain and could handle the numbers. He just liked to create.
When I glanced at her, she was telling a story about one of the pieces she had made. It was a rock spider with legs and details made from wrapped wire. It sounds cumbersome, but it was delicately beautiful. The story originated from a Christmas family experience of finding a spider in their freshly cut tree one year. It turned out to be a lucky spider and she wanted to give other’s the gift of luck. So, she made the Christmas Tree Spider.
I was at the mall when a mother walked by me. She had three little ones circling her, whining, crying, and screaming. The one in the stroller was the loudest. She stopped, leaned over the stroller edge. Her tired stare connected with mine when she cuddled the little one to her chest.
I wiggled my nose, blinked my eyes, and a musician in black performance dress sat at the nearby piano. The acoustics around the small landing aided her classical song and the children were mesmerized. After a moment, the children smiled.
The mother placed her quiet baby back in the stroller and escorted the dancing, twirling, children onward.
I was late in meeting a friend at the coffee house down the street. When I sat at the table, she leaned close to me and said, “See the couple over there at that table for two. I heard the barista wishing them a happy forty-fifth anniversary. They sat down and haven’t said a word to each other since. Could you imagine not having anything to say after so many years?”
I spotted their fingers intertwined. The man’s thumb caressed the lady’s knuckles.
I said, “I hope we are that lucky too.”
At breakfast this morning, there was a group of women who spoke over each other when the waiter approached the table. He turned, a frown formed on his face, and he rushed off like he had caught fire.
To my surprise, the waiter returned with the orders and placed them correctly in front of his customers. They all paused in their yammering to applaud.
Another bright day on the Eastside of Seattle, I ran my family errands. I couldn’t help but notice a number of plaid shirts in the crowds. So many, I wondered, is there a convention giving awards?