And On the Day He Returns, He Walks In The House and Boom! The Amaryllis Has Popped Its Joy Once Again

After a successful few days on the Hill, and a morning of presenting to a few beautiful NWP folks during a round table, I hit Amtrak for the 5 hour trip home. For the first leg of the trip I sat next to a 76-year old midwife who was heading to NYC to deliver her grandchild, a girl to be born to her white daughter and Japanese husband. I got the whole story of delivering babies, and we talked at great length about the miracle of life.

While we pulled into NYC from DC, I knew Chitunga was arriving to the JFK airport for his departure to Italy. The midwife got off at Penn Station and then Desne stepped in and sat next to me. Now, what are the chances that the same person who rode next to me on the train from B'port to NYC on my way to DC, would be in the car and next to me again on the way back? I was typing and when I looked up, I started to laugh. She works for Harvard in the gifts department and was heading to the Apple to talk with potential donors. She talked to me about her work with Sudanese refugees in Boston and I thought it was crazy that she was next to me again on my way back home. Of course, Chitunga called to say goodbye as I was stepping off the train. He was entering customs, and I was thinking about life cycles and rhythms.

When I entered the house, Mt. Pleasant itself, I was greeted buy an Amaryllis in full bloom. This is the same one that opened up last year when Chitunga and I finally moved into the new house - the same one that I had for years, but never blossomed. Yet, here she was again welcoming me back home from being on the road. I took Glamis for a long walk and when I returned Chitunga called again from the tarmac. He was taking off. He wanted to know if I saw the flower in bloom.

I see it as a reminder of life, possibility and hope. Given the facts 2016 and how it has been, I am appreciative to have such the plant's hello upon my return.

I hope she stays this way throughout the week.