The Box Labeled “Grandma’s Dishes”

This came to me in the wee hours of the morning, when I was forced to crop a picture so it would fit the platform I was using.

I can’t help but think that a narrow horizon is an oxymoron…and so is a narrow mind.

As usual, I was thinking about the mindless words and basic poetry I see on social media – the ones that overstate the obvious, and for some basic psychology principle, people feel the need to “like” them, perhaps because it gives them a sense of community.

Then I got to thinking a bit more about communities, how they once were smaller and an extension of our families, but now, as the world has become more accessible, and people move in and out of neighborhoods, communities of yesterday have been packed up in the box labeled “Grandma’s Dishes” and stored in the attic. What was once many has become one.

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