The slow droll scrape of co-op baskets against the ground on a Saturday afternoon in the express checkout lane, 5 aisles deep.

Eyes roll as we all try to shop in this tight quartered chaos and not many seem human at all.

Kindness,

Slowness,

And Connection.

Those things go first as the co-op fills up.

However,

There are glimmers of light here and there. The help of 2 cheese aficionados as I prepare to feed 30 people an appetizer this evening. Two others help me find the right crackers.

Going to celebrate death and learn about Santa Muerte tonight. I am planning in my mind an ornate flower headdress.

I know I won’t meet my own expectations of glamour and artistry, but I’ll look beautiful and it will entertain nonetheless.

I run into Rainbow, and her sincere gaze makes me remember my heart. She asks if Jaya is feeling better, I tell her in passing that we all got the bug in the end. Her daughter Mable loses a green rain-boot.

I leave you with a song sung at the New Old Traditions gatherings, written by Bob Doto:

“Sweet, Sweet Life”
(to be sung after Honoring the Dead and before desert on all occasions)

G D
Come on sweet, sweet life gonna love you while I can
C G
Take you in my arms and squeeze you with both hands

Come on sweet, sweet life it’s you I’m searching for
Find you in the field and behind closed doors

Come on sweet, sweet life you never let us down
With every corner turned you come right round

Come on sweet, sweet life you’re all there is to know
Everyday we touch we grow, grow, grow