Kindness.

Sometimes we get packages and regular mail together, so our mailman will drive up our steep, annoying driveway when the top is often filled with lots of toys or building materials, and cars, and even our big pool...  But he drives up, anyway, to make sure the package gets to our door and not just leave it on the porch down below.

Stella and I were outside planting all these various perennial bulbs that Sam had bought for me a few days ago.  We spent time thinking about where we should put each plant and why it would fit just right there, or over here.  Stella was watering the gardens when I saw the mail truck driving up the driveway.  I advised her to not spray the mailman, which inspired a 'duh' expression from Stella, who said, "I wouldn't do that mommy!"

The mailman gave me an envelope and said he had a bigger box in the back.  He explained how FedEx passes off deliveries to the postal service when they feel like it's too difficult to find a house, or if there were tough driveways for their bigger trucks to maneuver.

     "Weird," I said to him.  "I hope they pay you to make the deliveries for them!  Next time we'll give you a tip."  He laughed and I told him it was always okay to turn around up there however he can, even if he has to drive on the yard.  He said, "Really?"
     "Trust me, we don't care," and gestured towards the mess that was all around us.

After he left Stella put down the hose and sat on one of the swings, facing the garden she had been watering.  She said, "That is a friendly mailman.  Why was he talking so nicely to us?"

Stella loving her grampy up.

I explained that he was a friendly person and that he was also one of her classmate's fathers.
     "Did he talk to you in a nice way, because he is her daddy?"
     "No, he is just a friendly, good person.  There are lots of friendly and kind people in the world, Stella.  It feels nice when you meet someone like that, though, doesn't it?"

She was sitting on a swing, and she looked down, dragging her toes on the dirt... pensive...  thinking... "Mommy, when I meet someone like that, it makes me think of...  Well, I don't want you to be sad."
     "It makes you think of Grampy John, doesn't it?"
She looked up and smiled, sadly, "Mommy, he was nice to everyone.  He cared about everyone."
     "You're right, he did.  It doesn't make me sad to think about Grampy John.  It makes me happy when we talk about him," I said, watching her smile creep back.  "And he would be proud of how kind and caring you are.  Grampy was very special and I'm glad you think about him sometimes."
    "I think about him all the time, mommy."