The Red Thread II

I got a package a few days ago. It was small and unexpected. What was inside filled my heart, and seemed deliberately intended to remind me: 

"An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. The thread may stretch or tangle, but never break."  

Ancient Chinese Proverb

I met the couple at the nursery some time ago. They were looking for a special plant to use as a memorial. He had done a lot of study on what might be a suitable choice, and he was happy with the plant once he had made his decision.

But, as is often the case, one plant is not enough. So they came back for more. They talked about their garden, they shared their ideas on design, colors, style, even family. They began to open their hearts in tiny pieces over those intimate personal plant choices made for their unique requirements. And pretty soon, the topic of gardening had washed over the relationship, and left little pockets of warmth and substance between people who were otherwise strangers. 

           
   This, I should have known, is The Red Thread. 

I don't see them often. Our purpose for meeting is always plants. Yet with every opportunity, they share a little more of themselves as I share a little more of my world. I have watched them pregnant with a new son. I was so happy for them that I couldn't help but send them one of my favorite all time "boy" books to celebrate.

I have been honored to have been the reason for that son's first longer car outing. I have sent them into the retail area with others so that I could have that beautiful baby boy all to myself for a few minutes. You'd think I deserved some claim to him, but I don't. 

 They just offered it to me.

Since then I have also found that he reads my blog from time to time. He noticed recently that I was expecting two grandchildren, and he commented about how he had enjoyed my blog, and my news. So here comes a package this week with two beautiful, horticulturally inspired journals. He suggested that since I liked to write, I should write notes to my coming grandchildren, and pass them on when they are older. He says he wished he'd had a journal like that from his grandmother.

 Even before I had, he thought of something that I would love to do, and provided me with the materials and the motivation to get started. When I read that note, I felt a tug from that invisible tie to souls who are destined to meet. A gift so simple and so profound cannot be explained any other way.

           If you're not convinced, these are the quotes on the back wrappers of the journals:

"Many eyes go through the meadow. 
But few see the flowers in it."
Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Words form the thread on which we string our experiences."
Aldous Huxley

  Sounds just like me.