i skip inside the open doorway. an armful of pants that need the type of launderings that i cannot provide from the comfort of my tight little laundry room.
for a few minutes.
an errand ... that like so many other day to day errands that i selfishly turn into an outing of sorts ... because hello?
peace.and.quiet. a moment of solitude. a chance to pee by myself without at least five knocks and one mewing cat at the door. the chance to choose MY radio station ... or ... OR! nothing.at.all.
peace and quiet.
she's a sweet lady ... been around. long enough. long enough to see so many peoples dropping off pants and shirts. she asks my name. and i give her my husband's. because technically ... they're his pants.
oh. she whispers.
i know him. you have the most polite and sweetest children. she says.
she poetically notes something about 51 years and having the chance to watch so many children growing up. there is no negativity within her prose.
and she reaches out and grasps my arm. softly. with the softest skin on her worn hands ... she looks into my eyes and reminds me ... you're doing a good job, mama.
and i'm super thankful for my sunglasses purchase a few days prior at costco at that very moment. because i tear up behind the darkness of their lenses.
she counts out three lollipops and sends me out the door with a wave.
and a softness in my heart.
there are certainly angels among us when they are needed, aren't there?
did i ever tell you about the time that i drove (DROVE!) 14 hours across the country to cincinnati to visit my best friend, her husband, their two sweet children and her not-quite-here-yet baby? no? well. we did. and it was amazingly wonderful ... so much so, that i often forgot to bring out my big girl camera. but this? right here? is our children. and when we drove around with all of them singing in the backseats? my heart became full.
this picture means the world to me. complete with all of their sweaty little heads and mouths full of peanut butter and jellies. love you sar-bear.