A Thousand Petals of Joy
The day had been gray, the work week long. All night, the trucks had been plowing snow from the roads, dumping salt and cinders. Now a dirty slush covered them.
The temperatures were well below freezing, and people were bundled up like mummies against the cold.
Even though the weekend loomed, promising some freedom from the monotony of the routine, we were weary. We were weary of the darkness, and weary of the cold, and of how much time and energy it took just to meet the season’s daily demands.
I pulled into the grocery store’s crowded parking lot and trudged through the muddy brown sludge and to pick up a few essentials.
I wrestled my cart over the sodden mat inside the entrance and was welcomed by a comforting gleam of light and soft music. I sighed in relief.
Then, turning my cart toward the main body of the store, I was suddenly awash in the jubilant colors of dozens and dozens of floral bouquets. My eyes hungrily drank in the hues as a wave of delight swept over me. These blossoms were candy for the soul, morsels of orange and lemon, cherry and lime, filled with the fragrance of springtime and the taste of hope. What sweetness!
It felt as if the gods had seen our need and met it with a thousand petals of joy.
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