Small talk led to deep talk, and I listened to a woman, decades my elder, share some events that may have broken me, had God put me in her shoes. Destruction of family land, loss of a child, and an unhappy marriage crumbling after forty years together.

"[T]here are no small things in life, particularly when done with love or compassion."

I read a press release today that left me seeing red. Designed to destroy the victim, as if the sexual assault hadn’t done enough, the defense attorney, before any trial on the merits, announced as fact the victim’s lack of character and worthiness.

I couldn’t shake the joy of wildflowers that spring. Bluebonnets, buttercups, Indian paintbrushes bloomed in abundance roadside, painting the world blue, pinkish white, and red-orange. Texas dogwoods added their soft hues while honeysuckle vines slowly unfolded along fence and abandoned gate.

I remember rain falling that Easter, cool, crystalline drops. I remember racing, laughing, for the patio and shelter; I remember cheap, plastic eggs coloring the yard like wildflowers. Days like today, I can almost hear my grandmother’s soft, ready laughter and taste the slightly melted chocolate of a Hershey bar left too long in the heat.