Close up of Tiffany confetti style glass

Close up of Tiffany confetti style glass (Photo credit: Captain Tenneal)

So, here we are, surrounded by pretty pink roses and white flowers that look like bells taking bows after some wonderful performance. And there are pairs of pink plastic flamingos trying so hard to be friends in a few neighborhood yards. And truly, a little pink house on the way to 25th Street, and blue hydrangeas in the median on North Ocoee Street.

Skipping around…when my only first cousin visited from Florida this past summer, she talked about Dressage, a kind of ballet for horses. My cousin owns many horses in Florida. My cousin is so sensitive, like apparently many horses are, maybe all of them. She named one of her favorite horses “Confetti.” Isn’t that a great name? Don’t you love confetti, the way it floats tiny bits of something happy and sparkly and snazzy and uplifting right down to us?

Anyway, I read about Dressage at “The Art of Natural Dressage,” to make sure the horses don’t get hurt. The website writer said, “A horse does not lie and will tell you when riding hurts. It’s up to us to listen.”

Listening up is a fine art. When people feel heard, confetti floats down to uplift their hearts. Eventually, a person who’s heard will learn to make confetti too, for everybody else.

Isn’t it true? The tiny bits of our broken hearts learn to celebrate the tiniest things, even if they are not our own possessions, like pink roses and blue hydrangeas and little pink houses and warm socks for winter.

The ladies at church thought we might eventually have a Japanese tea ceremony. It was a precise and peaceful thought, to be considered.

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