The milk of human sunflowers

Scheherazade tells a story
Humans are awesome.

Scheherazade called yesterday to check on me. I was down with some 24-hour stomach thing. I’m not going to blame the caterpillar I found crawling out of our farm box greens the night before because 1) I found it while I was washing them and did another two washings; and 2) a healthy caterpillar is proof that we’re getting healthy, fresh-from-the-farm produce, which is a good thing, right?

Dave carried it outside. He reminded me that one day it will be a beautiful butterfly, so I shouldn’t be grossed out. I don’t blame the caterpillar, but yesterday as I lay moaning on the couch, Dave threw out the rest of the salad greens.

Scheherazade checked in with texts a couple of times throughout the day. Then she called, but I missed it because I was able to stand up long enough to hold the back screen door while Dave took its hinges off.

She left me a message. “Hope you’re feeling better. I had a nice little Trader Joe’s story. I was buying a card for a friend of mine, and I told the clerk that it was for my friend who’s going through chemo, and she said, ‘Hold on one second.’ And she came back with a whole bouquet of sunflowers and she said, ‘Please bring this to your friend.’ That just made me feel so good. The milk of human kindness. And I am extending that to you. Feel better.” And I do.

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