So this couple walks in- a broad-shouldered man with an accent (Italian, I think) and a man that I can best describe as looking like Cecil Palmer.
“Okay- weird question. So you guys did our wedding- amazing by the way. And it’s been a month and just about all the flowers in the vases have died by now except for this one thing that’s really holding on in there. And we want to know what that plant is and how to take care of it to keep it alive. And we don’t know how to like… describe it and it sounds kind of weird to go to up to a stranger and say ‘hey what’s this weird wiggly green plant you put in our vases a month ago?’ but I guess that’s what I’m asking.”
“Sounds like curly willow. If you keep it in water it will eventually start rooting and you can grow a new plant from it from the cutting.”
“That is too cool! What do you suggest we do?”
“Well, you can keep it in the water for now, but eventually you’ll want to pot it in soil because that’s how it’s going to get its nutrients.”
“Can we,” the Italian guy asks. “Can we plant it in the floor?” I figure he means ‘plant it outside.’
I nod. “It’ll keep growing.”
“What does it look like when it’s bigger? Does it stay like a wiggly stick?”
“Oh, no, it’ll branch out. It’s actually a tree.”
The skinnier one turns to his husband and says:
“Did you hear that, honey? They gave us a tree! We have a tree now!”
had the sweetest moment this weekend with my 18-month-old baby cousin. my aunt and uncle were kicking a tennis ball back and forth and encouraging him to play. I was, as always, silently watching from my wheelchair (I’m not much for athletics anyway lol). he pointed at me while my aunt was holding him. she put him down and my uncle kicked the ball to him. instead of kicking it right back like earlier in the day, he picked up the ball and carried it to me, placing it down very emphatically in front of me. I was worried and anxious that he’d get frustrated when I didn’t kick the ball and become upset because I “refused” to kick it and he obviously wouldn’t understand why. I looked at him for a split second apologetically, expecting him to start fussing or cry when I wouldn’t do what I thought he was asking. but suddenly, he just got behind the ball so that he was in front of me and kicked the ball to my uncle on my behalf.
I teared up. he wasn’t demanding I kick the ball – he was putting it down dramatically to make sure I’d be watching and so I’d know he was helping me with my “turn.” at 18 months old, he not only noticed I was being excluded on his own, but actively brainstormed ways to include me with zero prompting from adults. It was the sweetest and most empathetic gesture towards me in months. I love him so much. my heart is melting.
i’m still smiling about this 🙂 even the tiniest children are way more perceptive than people give them credit for!
I wonder if she was Turkish? I was pregnant in Turkey, and my neighbors brought me a small plate of food every time they cooked something strong-smelling. They said it was customary.
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