January 2 The Gift


“You cannot love your brother across the world, if you cannot love your neighbor across the street.” Author Unknown

I must say, although I think I am mostly friendly, outgoing, kind, loving and all-around fabulous, duh! I have never given a Christmas present to a neighbor. >Gasp< Not because I am opposed to Christmas presents or neighbors – under most circumstances. I have just been so pre-occupied with “the daily grind” that it never occurred to me that the people who share my space EVERY DAY, who see my comings and goings, who remember to put the garbage can out on the street on trash day when I forget, who say “good morning” to me on mornings that are sometimes not so good, who come over and warn me that somebody’s car got broken into last night, so be careful……. those people might actually care about me and my life for longer than it takes to watch me walk from the car into the house and back again.

I have a sweet neighbor who gives me a Christmas card every year and this year (year #3), I reciprocated and also got her a box of chocolates. I assume that every human being on planet earth except for Older Charming (and also Handsome) Son loves chocolate. Yes? This assumption paid off and, as luck would have it, she LOVES chocolate. Nailed it!

Today, after all of the Christmas and crazy weather stuff had died down, she caught me on my way to the gym. She said to come over, she had something for me. She had a few teeny, tiny items all wrapped in wrapping paper and she told me to pick one. So I did. I opened it and it was the cutest, teeniest, tiniest little dish from the Jemez Pueblo. She told me about the clay soil there, out of which my itsy, bitsy dish was made. She told me about the Indian fry bread that tastes so good in Jemez because, she is convinced, that some of the clay soil has blown into the dough and cooked or baked or fried (I’m not sure) into it. It tastes different than any other fry bread from anywhere else in New Mexico, she says. I love the way a person’s truth and experience gives a glimpse of exoticism that can ignite a soul’s journey. I will go to Jemez one day as a First and eat that fry bread and think of my neighbor, maybe even bring some back to share with her. I have a little blue soapstone crystal in my teeny, tiny dish from the Jemez Pueblo. Super cute.

It lives on a shelf in my bedroom



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