Small Kindnesses

Christine Lowther photo

SMALL KINDNESSES

I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk
down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs
to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.

And sometimes, when you spill lemons
from your grocery bag, someone else will help you
pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other.

We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot,
and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile
at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress
to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder,
and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.

We have so little of each other, now. So far
from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these
fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here,
have my seat,” “Go ahead — you first,” “I like your hat.”

- Danusha Lameris

Ms Lameris is an award-winning poet who served as Poet Laureate of Santa Cruz County from 2018 to 2020. I came across this wonderful poem and thought about how kindness - those small daily kindnesses we don't think much about - are scattered across our days like sunshine. Small interactions that warm our hearts bring out the very best of what it is to be a human in this world, and make us feel our kinship with those around us.

I am a fan, (as you may have noticed) of the ordinary joys and comforts in life. I have never had much in the way of materialism, never wanted it, but I am rich in the simple pleasures, the ordinary joys, the small daily kindnesses we encounter as we go about our days.

I happened upon this next poem from a favourite poet of mine - a very inspiring woman - Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, and thought it might spark some ideas. Rosemerry lost her sixteen year old son to suicide in 2022. Her poems after his death are inspiring, full of deep love.

After Years of Pretending I Could Do It All

I said yes today when Linda asked
if I’d like a nutritious drink to go.
You’ll need the protein, she said, as she slipped
the bottle into a paper bag. I said yes
when she offered to bring me food later.
Said yes when she offered to bring me wine.
And when Steve said, Let’s go outside,
I said yes. Yes as he showed me the best spot
to sit to face east in the morning. Yes
as he showed me the place to face west.
And later when Joan asked if she could hold me—
one palm to my chest, one palm to my back,
her forehead touched to my shoulder—
I said yes. I said yes as she helped me
to carry boxes and bags. Said yes
as she handed me water. I, the queen of no,
said yes. I, who have thought I could do it
alone, I who desperately want to not be a burden,
I who have longed for control,
I who have made a small cell out of no
said yes and felt the doors of reluctance
swing open then fall off their hinges then
dissolve into gratefulness. How long
have I thought I needed to do this alone?
How long have I clung to this island
of separateness? How sweet
it tastes, this yes. Like chocolate,
with thirty grams of protein no less.
Like pure water, offered in a small white cup,
something I need to live. Something I’m made of.

~ Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer


So there you go. Let's dig deep and see what comes up. Let's link our poems and visit our friends. The linky stays active till Sunday evening.