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It began with coffee.

This morning when Nash the carpenter walked in the door, I made him a cup. Cream and sugar. Nothing fancy. When he came back from lunch, he handed me a pretty pack of baklava. He thought I would like it because I speak Arabic to my dog. It perked up my day so much that when I went by a warehouse to see some cupboards, I asked the guy if I could bring him a coffee. He was surprised but said yes - cream and sugar. I spent $2.09. He spent his afternoon figuring out my problem, and gave me 75% off some floor model stuff he needed gone. Just because I was nice to him. Sam’s kindness buoyed me up so much.

After that I picked up Wren from bike camp - he learned how to ride a bike in a handful of hours. My wonderful kid, flying around a community hall parking lot. Pleased as punch that after ten years of being scared, he accomplished it in one day. We came home, and to my delight, one of my friends who is having a hard time showed up unexpectedly. I pulled fresh veggies out of my garden, cobbled together a tasty dinner, and was just present for her. She left lighter, her spirit refreshed.

It’s been a long day at this point. A little too much socializing, to be frank. But my damn dog needed a walk, so off we went. We got to the dog park and Bash immediately packed up with this great dog. Perfectly matched, totally enthralled with each other - there’s nothing more you could hope for when you hit the dog park. Dingo’s owner and I struck up a conversation, as owners often do when their dogs are super friendly.

Bryan was from out of town so I asked what brought him to the city. He told me he came back to bury his eighteen year old daughter today. So I did what I always do and offered him a hug. Dude cried in my arms for a solid 20 seconds. And then we walked. I got a whole life story in forty five minutes of walking around in the sunshine with a man coming to terms with his child’s death. We parted ways and we both left lighter.

Sharing this with you isn’t about showing off how great I am. I made a cup of coffee, bought a cup of coffee, and listened to two people. If there are cosmic scales out there, I was given a hundred times over what I gave. There’s just something here that I can’t piece together, but it deserves to be said out loud as a record of how kindness can sometimes snowball into this great THING that has no discernible pattern.

I have taxes to slog through, which I abhor with every fibre in my artsy body. My house is a dirty disaster from ongoing construction. I think I’m going to be in debt until I’m eighty. I wish I could say today’s tasks are over and I can just sit to ponder all of this, but the truth is my list is still a mile long. None of it matters.

Today a man buried his daughter. All I did was tell him he was a good dad. He doubled over crying and said, “yes I am a good dad” for the very first time in his life. He said that his eulogy was a masterpiece, that she would be proud. You know what’s funny? I sent him here. Said he should write it all down. Write something for himself.

That’s all I’ve been doing here - writing something for myself. An open journal of sorts for jumbled ideas too wobbly to be something more than poems written by the voice in my head. Yet here I found friends, stories and poems that fill my heart to the brim with joy. I’ve received more than I’ve given time and time again. Poverty and I know each other well. Abundance? We’re just getting acquainted.

I wish this was eloquent and masterful. In truth I’m not even going to proofread it. It’s a dutiful record of a day so simple and profound I don’t have the words for it. Maybe Bryan will. Fingers crossed he becomes one of the many magical voices here.