I’d forgotten, in the three years since I left Louisiana, how wonderful and graceful the South can be.
Every single receptionist takes the time to ask how I am, and instead of simply engaging in the business of scheduling an appointment or taking a payment, they genuinely want to know how my day is going. Sales clerks generally aren’t rushed. The local dry cleaner comes out to the car to get your clothes and delivers the clean ones back to you with a smile. When people find out I’ve just moved back their welcome is heartfelt.
And I can’t help but notice the trees.
My walks with Xav might no longer be in the woods I loved so much in Virginia but these southern trees have their own way of reaching gracefully for the sky, seeming to line up in order, standing as sentinels out here, bringing a new and different kind of smile to my inner self. They grace my footsteps.
And although pelicans aren’t normally associated with grace, the white pelicans here, as they glide across the lake in the morning, have a special kind of fluidity that seems to defy gravity.
Proving that grace can be found where you least expect it.
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