Nobody planned the meeting.
Everybody attended anyway.
Grandma had intended to spend a perfectly quiet afternoon.
The afternoon had prepared different plans.
It began with a small white bear.
The little fellow wandered into Grandma’s garden wearing a knitted hat that appeared entirely too warm for the weather.
Nobody asked why.
Some questions looked happier without answers.
Grandma bent down and gave the bear a gentle hug.
It smiled immediately.
This seemed encouraging.
The little girl noticed first.
“I think it likes hugs.”
Grandma nodded.
“So do I.”
The penguin arrived next.
Penguins were wonderfully polite.
It waited in line.
There had not been a line until the penguin appeared.
Somehow there was one now.
The fox joined after that.
Not because it wanted a hug.
Because it wished to investigate why everyone else wanted one.
Scientific curiosity often looked suspiciously affectionate.
A raccoon wandered over carrying absolutely nothing.
It simply looked prepared.
The lion smiled without opening its eyes.
The crocodile smiled without convincing anyone.
The koala hugged the raccoon while waiting for its own turn.
This greatly simplified the schedule.
Nobody had written the schedule.
The giraffe leaned down carefully.
The moose leaned sideways.
The cow tried not to step on anyone.
The hippopotamus laughed before anything funny happened.
This turned out to be excellent timing.
The tiger cub sat near Grandma’s shoes.
Apparently somebody had appointed it Director of Giggling.
It accepted the responsibility with remarkable enthusiasm.
Soon nobody could remember who had been hugging whom.
The fox seemed attached to the hippopotamus.
The penguin had disappeared somewhere beneath Grandma’s sleeve.
The little bear looked exceptionally pleased with itself.
The little girl laughed.
“I think we’ve become tangled.”
Grandma looked around.
“I believe that’s the proper word.”
Nobody hurried to untangle anything.
There are moments that improve by remaining slightly inconvenient.
Several sparrows landed nearby.
They watched quietly.
One hopped closer.
Then another.
They seemed interested.
Not in joining.
In understanding the procedure.
The squirrel arrived carrying an acorn.
It placed the acorn beside the group.
Nobody knew whether it was a gift, an entrance fee, or simply excellent manners.
No one disturbed it.
The afternoon had developed its own customs.
Grandpa finally appeared through the garden gate carrying a basket of fresh bread.
He stopped walking.
He counted once.
Then counted again.
“I seem to have underestimated today’s attendance.”
Grandma smiled without moving.
“We underestimated it too.”
Grandpa looked at the basket.
Then at the gathering.
“I only brought one loaf.”
The fox opened one eye.
The hippopotamus laughed even harder.
The penguin clapped.
The little bear hugged Grandma again.
Grandpa nodded thoughtfully.
“Well.”
He placed the basket on the grass.
“We’ll slice it thinner.”
Nobody applauded.
Nobody objected.
That was simply how afternoons worked around Grandma’s garden.
Later, when the sun began settling behind the trees, everyone quietly drifted home.
The giraffe first.
The moose after that.
The fox remembered somewhere else it had intended to be.
The penguin bowed.
The crocodile waved.
The tiger cub promised to continue laughing tomorrow.
The little bear stayed longest.
It hugged Grandma one final time before wandering happily toward the village path.
The garden became quiet again.
Grandpa picked up the empty bread basket.
Grandma brushed a tiny tuft of white fur from her sleeve.
The little girl looked around the peaceful garden.
“Do you think they’ll come back next Saturday?”
Grandma smiled.
“I don’t know.”
She glanced at the bench.
“But we should probably leave enough room.”
The bench had only seated two people all afternoon.
Nobody seemed to mind.
It had been occupied by considerably more happiness than furniture was ever expected to hold.
Livora Gracely 
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