Special Delivery

Needing a break from grading final exams, I wandered downstairs and happened to glance out the window just as a colorful minivan from a local florist whipped into a parking space across the way. A skinny kid in a baseball cap got out with a potted plant, left the van door open, and walked toward a neighbor’s door. I watched as he opened the storm door, carefully wedged the plant in at its base, rang the bell, and turned to leave.

I must have really been bored because I kept watching.

Several steps from the front door he stopped, and with military precision, turned and faced the door. I assumed he would wait for a second and head off to his next assignment, but he just kept waiting. And waiting. I’m sure that is floral delivery protocol, but he stood at attention like a stinking guard at Buckingham Palace, only in drab green shorts, an old t-shirt, and a cheap mask. I was mesmerized by this sign of respect. Eventually, the door slowly opened, and our elderly neighbor, whose husband has been in the hospital, appeared while still putting her own mask on. The two strangers exchanged words that I obviously could not hear as I spied out my front window, but the young boy then turned to leave as our neighbor collected her gift.

The situation in our world is ominous, and as much as I wish there was a rainbow waiting just around the corner, it seems that the storm is far from over. But I felt the slightest glimmer of hope looking out my window yesterday as the colors of the rainbow streaked out of our parking lot in that bright and radiant minivan.