Today, when I was feeling very low, one of the boys in my origami club lifted me right into the clouds.

Before Thanksgiving, I had given him a pile of paper to fold into poinsettias that will form the wreath that the Origami Club has been making for the school. I was counting on him to fold us right into Almost Done--he's as compulsive as I am.

But today he smiled and said: "Ms. Carlson, is it ok that I gave those flowers to my family in Thanksgiving?"

He wasn't really asking me; he got it; I knew he got it; he knew I knew he got it. I laughed. "It's perfect. Perfect."

At the ripe age of right now, it seems to me it really is all about right now and who's in front of you and what's in your heart. There's no tomorrow. Our wreath that is not a wreath is kindness finding its way home round and round and round.