The rose isn't that important

I was sent to deliver a rose to Margo. It turns out she didn't need the rose. She needed me.

Her sweet old mother let me in, and I found Margo running around her kitchen. Platters of eye-pleasing food cluttered the counters. “I need help, and I literally didn't have time to call anyone.” I put the flower down and said, “I’m here.” While she frantically cut vegetables and directed her mother to get parsley from the garden, I rolled balls of fragrant gingersnap dough in brown raw sugar, two at a time, and filled the cookie sheets.

I couldn't quite catch all that she was saying…something about a teacher appreciation social (maybe?) at the elementary school behind her house.

Margo loaded her car with all the deliciousness and off she went while I stayed behind to wait for the cookies to cool.

The whole experience reminded me of something my good friend Kathy G. taught me. Sometimes when we want to visit a friend, for whatever reason, we think we need to come with a loaf of bread or a plate of cookies... or a rose. But maybe all that friend needs is us.