Extra blush.
Check.
No lipstick on teeth.
Check.
Orange scarf tied jauntily around bristly hair.
Check.
I saw her in a garden.
I could tell she was sick.
Her face had that sallow color that can’t quite be disguised with foundation.
You could tell that it hurt her to move.
Her eyes were ringed with pain.
But there she stood.
Smiling.
The bright orange flag of her scarf screamed her defiance.
“I’m sick but I’m gonna live my life anyway!”
Damn.
I was impressed.
And humbled.
Mr. Jenny and I had planned to go to a garden show this weekend.
Saturday morning was not a good day.
Saturday morning I had cried against going anywhere.
My hair is short and bristly. I have that sallow color that can’t quite be disguised by foundation. It hurts to move.
I didn’t want to go like that.
I didn’t want to go with my cane and my hunched over walk and feeling like a 95 year old woman who is not having a good day.
But mopey and quiet I got in the truck and went anyway.
What a blessing that I did.
The gardens were riotous in color…
Arizona in spring is astonishing.
Hot pinks, lime green, buttery yellows and cobalt blues.
Amazing colors and textures everywhere.
But the color that is strongest in my mind is bright orange.
I can still see that scarf fluttering so very clearly in my memory.
The woman and I connected for a few minutes in the fluttering shade of an Arizona Ash tree.
We touched hands briefly.
Invisible illness isn’t really invisible to other people who have it.
I guess invisibility times two equals awareness.
Bless you unknown lady in the bright orange scarf.
You have thrown down the gauntlet and I am picking it up.
Courage.
Ah.
Courage.
It isn’t always carrying the sword into the battle, is it?
Sometimes it’s just being able to recognize that someone else is carrying it.
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Be especially kind today to people around you, friends.
You don’t know what another heart is bearing.
You don’t know the pain that lurks under another person’s invisible bright orange scarf.
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