I sat in the café, chatting about life with new friends. It was the first time we’d met, and like a teenager, I was overly aware of my hand movement, the bizarre twitching at the corner of my mouth, and the angle of the bottle to my lips as I leaned my head back to take a sip. To distract myself, I let my imagination wander. I asked a question that always ushers me toward the heart of a woman across from me:
What would it be like to live her life?
Salt air lifted the smell of coffee and pastries, teasing the will of my healthy diet. My gaze moved from the face of the woman talking to the walls of her café. I tried to guess what she loved. Books leaned every direction on the shelf behind her. Photographs decorated the walls around her. Random stacks of pottery tilted on the wood stove to her right. Hand-sewn owls lined the table on her left. The names of each artisan signed the walls and shelves of the cafe she called home. The sun’s rays drew clean lines across the painted floors. I inhaled again and smelled lavender.
“Mmmm,” I murmured, forgetting myself and interrupting her story, “lavender is my most favorite.”
She stood, opened a cabinet, and handed me a sachet of dried lavender—potent and perfect and something she sold in her shop. “You must take this then.”
She loved people. With that knowledge, I forgot myself.
One small gift reminded me that we, as women, are more than random acquaintances. We are a sisterhood. We are a powerful force as we dive into one another’s lives. We are meant to connect so that we will never believe we are alone.
And that aroma of sisterhood is the aroma of life.
Inhale deeply, friends of mine. And open your hands to the person next to you.