Kindness from The Local

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December 5, 2025

In Colorado, where 39 degrees is definitely not the same as 39 degrees in the northwest corner, the people are different. 

The waving is the same. 

Even at intersections.

But, as if it was possible, there is even more kindness.

On Thanksgiving day my daughter asked us to come to a favorite spot in Lyons to hold a ceremony for her wife who died a year ago. 

We collected rocks and sticks and set about finding a spot to gather and came upon a ring of stones at the water’s edge.

Someone or ones had been to this spot before and, apparently, had a ceremony of their own.

There was a rock painted with initials.

There was a vase and dried grass and sticks.

We circled the altar and added our offerings and took deep breaths. 

But here’s the thing. 

We were not in a secret spot. 

There were people arriving who saw us. 

They let us sing and tell stories.

They let us be.

Their kindness made our unbearable sorrow soften. 

My husband and I were in Colorado to help my daughter rebuild a front porch.

That led to building some shutters and then shelves in the bathroom, shoe molding in the bedroom, a new handrail up the stairs and a new paint color in the arch to the living room.

Needless to say, the most difficult  jobs fell to my husband.

I’m an excellent sous chef, as we have discussed.

A fantastic clean up crew and assistant surgeon but when it comes to the measuring and cutting, well, that is left to the professional. 

The results were astounding.

Our kindness made a difference. 

Even now.

With an impact driver and screw gun and paintbrush and caulk gun we helped my daughter lighten her load.

Just like those people who saw us in our grief circle.

It got me thinking that maybe kindness is one way to create some light at the end of this tunnel.

A way to lighten each other’s load. 

I think we should try it. 

It certainly can’t hurt.

See you soon.

Love,

Libby