The joy of nothing special

I remember being in my early 20s and walking an octogenarian to her car. She moved so slowly. I tried to be patient. But I was annoyed, in a hurry, ready to move on with my day. And just steps before we made it to her car, she looked up and noticed a tree. I was frustrated. But I listened to her marvel, and I also looked up. For the first time that I remember, I slowed down enough to notice something beautiful during an ordinary day.