The same day my friend sent me this link of 21 inspiring pictures of people being incredibly kind to strangers, I had my own little episode of local kindness.
A week ago Monday night while I was at the ER with G, a very large branch from one of our trees came down in heavy wind. Before I had a chance to do anything with it, one of my neighbors had sawed it into pieces, bundled it in twine, attached a yard waste sticker to cover the cost of pickup, and placed it on our curb in time for the weekly truck. All without my knowledge of who had taken care of it.
After asking several of our neighbors if they had dispatched our branch, I finally found out who had done it.
When people ask how is G doing, I say "Stable." There is such comfort for me in stable - it means I have figured out how to cope, life is somewhat predictable, I have the illusion of control.
He's in the hospital as of yesterday, so no longer the same stable of recent weeks, but I think we will have a new level of stable that we can deal with when he comes home in the next day or two. One ER trip Monday afternoon, but I brought him home again that night (with wonderful ambulance drivers - they stayed to help me get him ready for bed and into bed, and I asked them, "Do you want to come live with us?"). A second collapsing episode yesterday morning, another 911 call, and this time I agreed to have him admitted to the hospital from the ER.
G still has his sense of humor, thank God. I told him this morning that I'd had a dream about him (which never happens), that we were at a reunion with girlfriends of mine from university days, and that I lost track of him and was asking everyone if they had seen him. And then I woke up before I found him.
"You were probably off in a corner, talking with a bunch of my girlfriends," I said.
He widened his eyes and smiled. "Talking?! You wish."
We arrived at my parents' cottage Friday afternoon and found two gardening gloves on the counter with a note in my mom's handwriting.
She had tossed all the gardening gloves used during the Memorial Day work weekend into the washing machine and after sorting them, ended up with one pair of gloves (the only blue ones in the batch) with two right hands. No left.
My opinion? It's a right wing conspiracy to rid the world of left-handed gloves.
Saturday morning I went across town to my sister's to help her weed her garden. While we worked, I happened to mention the glove mystery. And found out that at my sister's house, there had been a left wing conspiracy. She had one pair of blue gloves (the only blue ones in her stash) with two left hands.
In summer, when we don't have choir rehearsal on Thursdays, one of our members organizes a monthly night out for anyone interested in dinner and a movie. Last night we saw Monsieur Lazhar, and it was excellent. Really excellent.
At the restaurant before the movie, I suddenly heard JJ (our peerless organizer) say over the chatter and clatter of the busy establishment, "Let me ask you all one question: Are you grateful?"
"Yes!" we answered.
There was laughter from the group, and I realized someone must have asked JJ about saying grace before our meal. Good solution for a noisy environment.