They are minuscule, the crumbs of comfort.
They are seldom wrapped, and come in assorted sizes, and shapes and often are proffered by strangers.
Yet they make a difference.
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Several have brightened my day recently.
A lovely picture of a beautiful sunset taken on Lake Willoughby that brought back magical memories of the summers spent there with the Fabulous Four and their beloved Dad.
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The deluge of emails sent daily chock full of memories of Hells Kitchen but laced with political and spiritual wisdom from the friend of, well, forever.
The Facetime call from the young friend I left behind when I relocated. Even while dealing with her own personal trauma, she took time to speak to me.
The friends I have met here, who join me weekly for dinner, conversation and solace. They feed my spirit with their food, and give me transfusions of laughter that restore my soul for the oncoming week.
The blessing of faith, which is embedded within due to those who held my hand throughout childhood and infused the values they treasured.
The surprising internet contact from a distant relative, the daughter of a beloved cousin, assuring me that we remain family even though her Father has moved upward.
The immediate reply to an email from a Grandson when he realized I needed assistance.
Two chocolate croissants delivered unexpectedly on another snowy day.
The unexpected love I encounter daily from strangers whose paths are as perilous as mine, but reach out their hand to steady me on an icy road.
The crumbs of comfort may be minute, but their message is magical and.I must never forget to sprinkle more of mine as I walk on the uneven road that lies ahead
