How to Find Connection
Yesterday, I watched my young neighbor walking up and down his driveway sprayer in hand, drenching the divides between his concrete squares with herbicide. He knows not that he risks so much else, too. I look at his still-life of a home -- every non-native, big-box-store plant, which is all he has, is trimmed and tidy and life-less. Makes me sad.
But I am sure he looks over at my home, with my eclectic, not-the-least-bit-"carpet"-like lawn and the "weeds" peeking up in my drive, and it makes him sad. Possibly angry. Certainly a head shaker.
It is too soon for me to speak. I need to find a way in, a connection point, a common thread. I know the man loves his home and probably recycles with the best of us. Until I can find a kind point of connection, any comment I would make would only hammer at the silent divide that already exists. That's not a way forward.
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