Kindness lingers, like flower blossom aromas wafting down the country lane, slowly winding it’s way, finding us.
To see kindness lived amidst harshness, kindness given in return for ill-will, kind-heartedness lived authentically because one is “being” instead of doing, is to see heroism and bravery. It’s a slow, laborious role.
Kindness speaks in lingering fashion, wafting generation through generation, patient and believing for things not yet seen.
The red dirt on the kind one’s grave connects to the soles of the shoes of those wandering in the present. Sole to Soul, I guess you could say. Like I said, this is a slow role, taking years to speak it’s part. But kindness adds little by little, so that roots expand and grow until we find we are beneficiaries of shade from a towering tree. This is why we remember people who live kindness. It’s a lingering melody few are tenacious enough to sing.
Kindness is unassuming, yet large and expansive from east to west like the blueness of the sky, humble enough to hold a little white cloud, yet brave enough to carry the fiercest of storms. We often converse about what is blowing in and out of the heavens, and the “blueness” waits for us to see the stability of kindness it offers.
Beautiful, blue sky.