Monday evening I did something I haven’t done since Covid, and maybe even a few years before that. Some girlfriends and I got together to assemble welcome baskets for guests of a friend’s daughter who’s getting married this weekend. The bride asked us to be environmentally mindful — no extra tissue, no plastic water bottles, no extra wrapping. After two plus years of fraught deicsions over masks, vaccines, boosters, plane rides and socializing, choosing between granola bars and pop corn, chocolates and trail mixes was a balm.
We organized everything assembly-line style — bags, labels, water boxes, treats, ribbons, and a group gift for the bride. Before setting to work we did something so very commonplace pre-Covid: we shared some pizzas, salad and fabulous homemade almond cookies (thank you, Tim.) It was a thrill to catch up with one another, weaving our shared excitment into an embrace for our friend. Her husband is quite ill; our joy is also threaded with strands of sorrow.
In our card to the bride, we thanked her for getting married and giving us an opportunity to celebrate her joy. Within the void of what Covid has taken away, assembling welcome baskets was burnished with even deeper joy.