The Sticky Pinecone

Sometimes we experience extraordinary moments without realizing it. 

Back in March, during the weekend before the Covid quarantine began, I was out walking through the neighborhood. The idea of wearing a mask was nonexistent. I was completely unaware of what was soon to happen to me, to all of us.

 

Little did I know it would be one of my last walks without a mask. It would be one of my last walks without being concerned about other people’s exhales.

 

I was soaking up the sun and the neighborhood vibes of Los Feliz Boulevard when I ran into a woman I’d see before. She was walking her dog, and with her was, I presume, her daughter. The daughter looked about 8 years old.

 

We exchanged hellos, and then her daughter walked up to me, invading my personal space with complete abandon. I thought she was about to hug me. Instead, she offered me a pinecone, placing it in the palm of my hand. She smiled that bright smile only a child knows and hurried back to her mother.

 

I thanked her, said goodbye, and continued on my way with a sticky pinecone oozing sap in the palm my hand.

 

As I turned the corner, I thought of tossing it aside. But just when I was about to toss it, the pinecone seemed to be glued to my hand and wouldn’t budge, wanting me to keep it, to enjoy its beauty, to carry it with me for the rest of my walk.  So I did.


Sometimes you just cannot question what’s happening...

 

As I approached home, I thought of tossing it into the bushes, but again, I couldn’t do it. I brought it inside and placed it on the counter.

 

That sticky pinecone stayed on the counter for days drying out and shriveling in size. Many times I thought of tossing it out but never did.



Weeks later, I was masked and cautiously walking through the neighborhood when I saw the girl’s mother walking her dog. I told her the story of her daughter giving me the sticky pinecone (she remembered it clearly), and how it’s been sitting on my counter ever since.

 

The mother told me that her daughter is autistic and doesn’t gravitate towards people, but for some reason that day, her little girl felt comfortable with me and wanted to share. She was so happy I still had the pinecone. I swear I saw a tear in her eye.

 

She told me she was going home to tell her daughter she saw me and that I still have her gift.

 

Wow.  


Comments

Love, love, love this story. Well done my friend!
karen n. said…
Such a sensitive story. Loved it.