By Lynne Cory                                        True Story

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What if I found myself sitting next to a woman who was complaining to her silent friend about how bad the weather was (it was 72 and sunny) and the traffic (very mild in our small town) and the neighbors and her car and her husband and then her kids and life in general?

What if instead of judging her I saw her as a strong weeping willow in my garden of life with her swaying branches and their leaves of tears?

What if her outlook made my outlook so much happier, the little clump of happy moss that I am?