A Pot of Pansies

We were out in Suffolk county (no overpopulation) and my wife asked me for some money at a large farm stand.  Having had a more carefree youth than she, I was on a jag to make it all up to her.  “What hanging basket would you like?” she generously asked.  I pointed to a white pot of maroon and white-faced pansies.  There was yellow in there too.  She went in and came out with a sales clerk to indicate the desired pot.

It was spring, and our whole universe was breaking out in the joyful wonder of rebirth.  I couldn’t help but believe I’d see this woman again where she was the richest woman in half a galaxy.  She drove all the way home, and I was able to save her from rear-ending a truck in a moment of inattention.

We receive and we give.  It is the story of spring and resurrection.  It is the story of life.

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