New Orleans was hovering between Christmas and Mardi Gras. Purple and gold decorations spilled from the trees onto the walls. We had just arrived in the city, for the fourth time, (though every time in New Orleans joyfully feels like the first), and Dominque wanted to pick up some maps from the city center. It seemed everyone had questions that day, so we stood in line at the counter. The only three people certain of the reason for their visit stood in front of the fireplace in the lobby. She, barely covered in a white sleeveless mini-dress and high heels. He, in flannel and work boots. The priest all in black.

They pledged “forever” in front of the impermanent purples, and seemed to have no idea of those of us touristing through their life changing moment.

It’s happening all the time. Life. Somewhere in that city, under the same purple and gold, they were saying goodbye to a loved one — completely stunned that the world could keep on turning. Someone was being born. Someone was celebrating. Someone was waiting for a bus (not wanting go), watching us unfold a map with expectation.

We’re all traveling through the randomness of each other’s lives. And isn’t it comforting, knowing that we aren’t alone? Couldn’t we have a little more empathy for each other? Be a little more kind? I smile, wandering within love’s purple and gold.