Tearing Up at the Sweetness of It

I just have to share this quick glimmer I experienced today in Fred Meyer’s. I put myself in line behind a little family – a mother, a girl of grade school age, and a little boy sitting in the seat in the shopping cart. The little boy was shaking a tube of candy and making it rattle, and he was having such fun with that, I found myself grinning as I watched him. I asked him how old he was – and I held up two fingers and then three – “Two? Three?” He held up three fingers in response, and said, “Three.” I told him my granddaughter was going to be three in a couple months, too. The little boy’s mother turned around and smiled at me then. She knew she was looking at a grandma.

I asked the little girl if she was a big sister, and she smiled and nodded her head. I told her I was a big sister, too – I have two little brothers, and I know what it means to be the “big sister.” I told her I could tell she was a good big sister, and she smiled.

The mother and daughter talked in Spanish for a moment, then I saw the little girl get out her own wallet. The mother had already paid for her groceries, but now the little girl was going to pay herself for her own art supplies. Her mother patiently helped her count out the money – one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten – the total for the purchase had been $9.93 – so now the mother and daughter counted out three pennies, so that the little girl would get a dime back. They carefully put the cash and pennies in the cashier’s hand, and the cashier smiled and placed a dime back in the little girl’s hand.

And I can’t even tell you what there was about this exchange that so touched me, but I found myself tearing up at the sweetness of it.

Daffodils in the Wind

It was a beautiful and perfect day, but not in the way
that you probably imagine. The skies were grey,
the new daffodil blossoms bent over in the gusting
wind. It was a hot tea and zipped jacket day.
There was a sweet melancholy in my thoughts
as I drove by your old home, our old haunts,
and remembered the two of you, laughing and happy,
exploring your new hometown. There was no pain
in the sweet sadness.  No  tears.  A gentle  gladness
for the time I had with you here.  It was a day to rent
“The Secret Garden” and watch young Mary learn
about hope and magic while a fire danced and burned
in the woodstove and a cat curled up on my lap for a nap.

– Karen Molenaar Terrell

Photo by Karen Molenaar Terrell.

daffodil reflection this one