1.  The first is this morning.  I was having breakfast at Lunchroom Martens on the Oudburg.  I lifted my latté cup from its saucer and revealed this beauty:

The elegance of the arms … the flow of the dance.

2.  I wrote a text to my friends in the Evolutionary Collective a few days ago, saying that I’d been discharged from the Düsseldorf hospital and I was coming home.

It’s a four-bus trip.  Easy

Minutes later I re-read.  Oops.  I corrected:

It’s a four-hour bus trip.  Easy

Much more understandable.

3.  I was walking on the Veldstraat yesterday.  Here come four people wearing purple jackets.  Previously I’d made the mistake of thinking such folks were Proximus employees (Internet) because they wear jackets that are the same shade of purple.

This time I walked up to the four and asked who they were.  “We’re Community Guards” is how they answered, translating from the Dutch.  They answer questions about Ghent.  So I asked “What is the meaning of life?”

It’s different for each person, responded one of the women

So true.

4.  I was strolling by Mister Minit, also on the Veldstraat.  The owner has helped me several times with key cutting and shoe repair.  I looked at him through the window and couldn’t remember his name.  And I wanted to know his name.  So I went in.

He was busy with a customer and the interaction kept on going – maybe five minutes.  A small part of me turned to leave but a bigger part stayed put.  “My time will come.”  And his name was “Steven”.

5.  I was sending Christmas cards to my brother-in-law Lance and his family in Canada.  I sat in Izy Coffee with the cards and Google Lens, getting the translations of the Dutch greetings.  For each of my five loved ones, I took the card I had chosen, copied the message in English, wrote a personal note, sealed the envelope and wrote the name on the front.  Easy and fun.

Five cards later, I was proud of myself.  Now to the postal outlet to buy a big envelope and get my greetings sent off to Canada, in plenty of time for Christmas.

I sorted through the envelopes.  Three had names and two were blank.  (Sigh)  So who was who?

Then a smile.  “Oh, Bruce.”  I tore open one of the blank envelopes, saw who it was for, and labelled the other one with the correct name.  Before me sat one mangled rectangle of paper.

Oh well.  I walked the twenty minutes to the bookstore where I bought the cards.  The clerk kindly gave me another envelope and soon my postal service was complete.

***

May today hold similar silliness and loveliness