The postman was waiting in front of the gate as I returned with the dogs from our morning walk. He is a funny character in his way. Youngish – the -ish being key – and with a laid back air that I find frequently in the postal workers here. Often he is smoking a cheroot as he makes his rounds, sometimes he stops in at the neighbor’s for a coffee, today he was wearing boxy skater style shorts. “Colis pour vous,” he said with an upward nod as if to clarify that it was indeed for me and not the dogs. “Encore?” But we weren’t expecting anything…My eyes started to water up as soon as I saw my Mom’s handwriting on the label, so I quickly thanked him and called out a “Bon Weekend” before stepping into the shade of the kitchen. With a swift draw of the kitchen knife, the box was open and I was pulling out its contents as if they were delicate treasures. I found several articles from the NY Times magazine that I had missed and a super colorful makeup bag from Clinique filled with moisturizers, eye shadows and lipsticks. The card was short, “…to cheer you up…” and then, of course, the tears, happy ones, really started to flow. To be so loved and cared for, from so far away and with a ghost of that umbilical cord that still links us. She knows that we have been going through a hard time and that this gift would be a wonderful luxury to me and she was right. I wiped my eyes with a paper towel and smoothed on one of the lipsticks to pucker my lips with a pop.
Two days ago, a box of similar size had been delivered by the same postman, who happened to be sporting bright turquoise track pants and scuffed sneakers for the occasion. That too was an utter surprise but it was not only for me. Rather the postcard (of one of my favorite vintage Vogue covers no less) was addressed, “Hello, Miss, Mister and the Hounds!” Inside were two jars wrapped in crackly gold paper. One contained my friend Jennifer’s famous marmalade. She had won a silver medal with it this year and knows how we crave it. In the other she had made jam…for Kipling. It is a long-standing joke between us concerning the time when Mr. Rascal ate the entire bowl of gariguettes, the finest strawberries in the South of France, in mere seconds while we weren’t looking. We call him the Strawberry Thief – although based on a recent event that still rankles I may well change his nickname to The Cookie Monster.
On Wednesday afternoon I was invited to go for a walk with C, who lives here in the village. She is an inspiring woman, a single Mom with a full time job and we don’t get to see each other very often. But she does read my blog from time to time and had thought of me as there was a corner of the near countryside which I perhaps did not know that might be interesting to photograph. She was right. We headed out at a brisk pace, our voices overlapping in equally rapid exchanges of conversation with me only stopping to wheeze at times due to the falling pollen. “Oh, just last week this entire field was covered with apple blossoms,” she said with disappointment as we arrived at our destination. But that was fine, more than fine. There was so much beauty everywhere and she has the eye to see it then point it out. I discovered so much if not necessarily what she had hoped. Afterwards, she invited me back to her spotless kitchen and I watched as she prepared for us a tonic green juice. It gave me strength, literally, as if I were Popeye downing cans of spinach, just as had the pleasure of her fine company.
And so today I am thinking of the power of kindness. These three lovely women did acts that were probably small for them (although I have to add that it cost my Mom a pretty penny to mail that box from the States) but are really big for me. Huge, even. Similarly, I have two internet friends (both male, so as not to imply that thoughtfulness is only an inherent feminine quality) that have been sending out frequent words of encouragement because sometimes an “I believe in you, everything is going to work out,” goes a long, long way. With the weekend in front of me, I am wondering what good I can do to pay it forward. But then again, it is probably best not to overthink it too much just as, I imagine, these women didn’t either. Life will whisper me the way.
Have a wonderful weekend everyone…
Heather, I know the joy that a package from home brings to my daughter Ginger. I cry when I'm putting it together, and my note is always smudged with my tears and my favourite perfume. I'm in the process of making plum jam, Ginger's favourite, and mine, and although it costs a fortune to send it to her, I will. As always my thoughts are with you and your dear boys, and believe me when I say I know what difficult times are too. Stay strong my dear.
With love, xxTracy.
“To be so loved and cared for, from so far away…”, your mom misses you and from tears, you miss her too.
“the kindness” that came your way will flow, without you knowing it, to others from your heart.
The meadow so green, so yellow.
KINDNESS……………….it goes along way!
I am thrilled to hear there is another AMERICAN close by to YOU!Hello MADAME C…………you are in charge of keeping an eye on OUR HEATHER for ME!I am just too far away…….but I can do a BOX.Especially if I can get the last name on it correctly!!Thats a sad joke for H and me!!!!A MAY DAY BOX will be arriving……………..XOXOXO
Thank you for your tender and vulnerable post today! I'm glad you had the surprise parcel in the post from your mum! The lipstick suits you!
One of your other readers mentioned the image of the poppy.Seeing it today was quite poignant, as the poppy is used as a symbol for ANZAC day (Australia and New Zealand Army Corps). It is 100 years today since many Australians and New Zealanders lost their lives at the shore of Gallipoli and three years later to the day, defending the town of Villers-Brettoneux. Hearing stories about it on the radio, so many of them were just boys -still teenagers or in their early twenties. Peace is a precious thing and it seems that your friend who took you for a walk, wanted to give you a little beauty and peace!
Wishing you a good week ahead!
Cheers,
Deborah – Melbourne
Heather – you are right – Mums are amazing – Some years ago – I lived in Western Australia (about 5 or 6 hours flying from the East Coast) – for a year and every couple of weeks a little note arrive and sometimes – yes a parcel!! I opened one of these parcels one day to find a moldy square block and some other treasures that looked more alluring – after some consideration – I put the square moldy thing aside and later that night rang my Mum —— turned out it was cheese she had thoughtfully sent – but even in the few days it took to traverse the heat of the Australian continent – it had acquired it's furry coat!! Just cut it off says my Mum (a chef) which I did with some trepidation and sure enough it was delicious – so they are very precious!! You have reminded me again how special!! thanks!!
A little gesture, a kind thought, a story of symbols, all wrapped up in that box….How beautiful these parcels are.
Seeing your poppies there is very poignant for me today, as it is Anzac Day here in Australia and also in New Zealand – our memorial day for fallen soldiers – so the poppies too are a little gesture, a kind thought and a story of symbols – a different meaning, but all about the best of human spirit through adversity, so it's the same story as your wonderful parcels really.
Heather, thank you for sharing your tender and artistic spirit with us. Your words and images are filled with grace. Amities, Jill
Beautiful images, as always- the lipstick is a good colour on you, and so neat- I am a complete make up klutz, might as well let the grandchildren put it on for me! Your postman is a character, always good to have a few of those around, and kind people in abundance- you needn't worry at all about when to pay kindness, it is a flexible currency. Wishing you coffers overflowing xxx
I am sorry to read rough times are with you. I don't know details, and they aren't necessary. You all are in my thoughts.
Every time I see Ben's face I see such an abundance of love, intelligence, and age that it pulls me back to seeing his photo for the first time. I have to run away from the future I know will be. The blog world is life with all its emotions.
A box from Mom, a box from home! I am a little misty just thinking about it. It truly is the small things that can make a huge difference. xoxo
(And now I know why Kipling got the strawberry jam!)