I tried my feeble Spanish on a resident whose name was Carlos. His family was originally from South America. He had been a social worker in an inner city all of his life. He was of course bi-lingual so the Spanish practice was just for me – a little conversation. He was reading a very thick novel but was laying flat on his back – not propped up on a pillow to read the book comfortably. He appreciated the flowers and smiled at my attempt to converse in Espanol. He did not look like he was at retirement age. Maybe about 55. So while the rest of the men in the area golf, garden and barbecue on sunny Sunday afternoons, let us say a prayer for the many hundreds that I see who can no longer grow their own squash and tomatoes or talk to neighbors dropping by. I guess feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t change the situation. “There but for the grace of God go I.” I have been praying for God to lead me to what is my purpose. I still haven’t found it. But maybe being the Flower Lady is the in-between path. And oh, just a little extra post-script. I met a lady at the same place yesterday from Norristown. Attended Ebenezer Baptist Church. She loved the flowers and as I was walking away, she said, “I miss Norristown so much!”