Page 17 of The Incredible Kindness of Paper
A quiet life can be a powerful one.
“Are you okay?” Bonnie asked.
Mary swiped away the tear and nodded. Then she refolded the paper rose as best she could and tucked it into her fanny pack.
“You were right,” she said to the woman on the bench. “This flower is mine.”
Chloe
Chloe decided that the Mall was her favorite place to sit in Central Park while she folded paper roses. It was a long, wide path shaded by arches of elm trees, with plenty of benches, great for people-watching. In the past week of being here, she’d already gotten to know some of the regulars, too—the runners, the power walkers, and moms pushing strollers.
Zac had been right that the park was good for her. Chloe was reminded of what she’d loved about her job as a guidance counselor—making a connection, however brief. She could do it here in Central Park, too, in a different way. Even if she only made eye contact and smiled, that was a kindness, a shared moment of humanity. And in that moment, both giver and receiver remembered that they both worried, hoped, and loved in this big, uncontrollable world.
In that moment, they were the same—human.
One morning, the pair of white-haired sisters, Bonnie and Mary, showed up again, this time with a wagon hauling a card table. They were both also sporting brand-new, bright red fanny packs.
“We want to help,” Bonnie said.
“If you’ll have us,” Mary said.
“Help?” Chloe asked. “How?”
“If you teach us how to make the flowers,” Bonnie said, “we can fold more and give out more, and thereby increase the good in the universe.”
“Please say yes,” Mary said. “Because Bonnie got so excited, she already made you a sign.”
Shushing her sister, Bonnie unrolled a piece of posterboard that had been in their wagon.
START YOUR DAY WITH A SMILE!
It was decorated with bright yellow smiley faces.
Chloe clapped, then got up to hug them. “You made that for me?” How incredible that her paper roses had touched these two enough that they wanted to contribute.
“You like it?” Bonnie asked.
“It’s perfect. And yes, I would love your help folding more flowers.”
Chloe hadn’t actually thought about anyone else making origami flowers. But why not? More people putting more hope and joy and inspiration out there could only be a positive thing. Life was a heavy burden, but if they could make it a little bit lighter for someone—even for a moment—it would make the world a better place.
For the next hour, Chloe taught Mary and Bonnie how to make origami roses, just as Chloe’s grandma had taught her during that summer after sophomore year of college, because she’d taken a Japanese art history course and craved more of her own heritage.
Bonnie was all thumbs, but Mary was especially good at it; she seemed able to tune out all distractions and really get into the flow, folding flowers almost as fast as Chloe. The sisters decided on a division of labor—Bonnie wrote the messages, and Mary made the roses.
Warmth blossomed inside Chloe. She realized it had been quite a while since she’d actively done something together with other people. Sure, she had loved counseling the kids at school, but a teacher-student relationship was different from one with peers.
How long had Chloe lived with her loneliness without recognizing it? Months? Years?
If she was being honest, she’d been carrying around a hollowness in her life for the past sixteen years. Once upon a time, there had been someone who understood her completely, someone with whom she’d been so entwined, they were never alone even when they were physically apart, because they always knew the other one was there in thought and spirit and love.
Not that Chloe needed a man to define her or make her whole. She had enjoyed college. She was proud of herself for the (short-lived) counselingcareer she’d built here in New York. And now, maybe she was finding a new way to grow roots here in the city.
Once Bonnie and Mary had a big pile of origami flowers, Bonnie asked, “Now what? Do we hand them out to passersby?”
That wasn’t Chloe’s way—she onlymadethe paper roses here but preferred to leave them in random places for the right people to find them. She had a particular affinity for leaving the flowers tucked into the shelves at bookstores—just yesterday, she’d gone on a paper rose circuit from her cute neighborhood indie, the Astoria Bookshop, to Desert Island in Williamsburg (where she’d danced among the books while a vinyl record played in the background), to the huge, cheerful mural at Books Are Magic in Cobble Hill, to Bookmarc in the West Village (she grabbed a cupcake from Magnolia Bakery on the way), and then finally, Books of Wonder (where she happily lost herself in memories of childhood among the rows and rows of picture books).
Chloe also loved dropping her origami in tip jars at ice cream shops, or in the ice cream freezer cases at bodegas and mom-and-pop corner stores. After all, she had practically been born in the Ice Creamery, and no one in her family would’ve been surprised if they discovered that it was milkshakes, rather than blood, that flowed in Chloe’s veins.
