I\u2019ve been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, <\/p>\n\n\n\n
people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say \u201cbless you\u201d
when someone sneezes, a leftover
from the Bubonic plague. \u201cDon\u2019t die,\u201d we are saying.
And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else will help you pick them up.
Mostly, we don\u2019t want to harm each other.
We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot, and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile at them and for them to smile back.
For the waitress to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder, and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass.
We have so little of each other, now. So far from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange.
What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these fleeting temples we make together when we say, \u201cHere, have my seat,\u201d \u201cGo ahead \u2014 you first,\u201d \u201cI like your hat.\u201d<\/p> <\/cite><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/irisherself.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/iris-morning-by-ed-mell-300x285.jpg\")
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