Six of Keros

Something unexpectedly kind happened today. I stopped at a small shop this afternoon and ended up talking with the woman who owned it. My Spanish wasn't good enough for everything she wanted to tell me, and her English was about as limited, so there was a lot of pointing, laughing, and trying again.

At some point I mentioned that I had been missing home. She disappeared into the back and returned carrying a small cup of tea. Then she sat down across from me.

We talked as well as we could. She asked about my family, where I lived, and why Peru. I showed her a picture of my dog, which apparently required several more pictures once she saw the first one. Then she showed me photographs of her family.

Before I left, she gave me a small woven flower from a basket near the counter. I tried to pay for it, but she closed my hand around it and shook her head. I carried it with me for the rest of the day.

It wasn't really the flower. It was being reminded that tenderness can find you somewhere completely unfamiliar, sometimes from someone whose life may never cross yours again. Tonight, I feel a little closer to home.