Another small-great kindness
Last night I found a bag I’d long ago forgotten was mine.
After my little ones were asleep, I pulled out the old purse journal I’d found tucked in with my commemorative towel. I curled up against one of my sofa’s arms and began reading a random page.
I smiled at catching glimpses of a much mellower me, and a Li’l D who was ever so much littler then than now. I gasped when I reached a page where a beloved nurse practitioner imparted loving wisdom to then-me that now-me desperately needed to “hear.”
Feeling soothed, I went to close the journal and noticed a small, slightly faded piece of paper taped on its inside cover.
It doesn’t look like much, does it?
But I started crying, seeing it. That $0 price tag reflected another small-great kindness.
My Grandpa G died while my siblings and I were watching WALL-E. We fled the theater at a run after my mom called me sobbing.
A couple days later, we returned to the theater. We explained to the theater manager why we’d left the first time, following which he printed up free tickets.
I saved my ticket as a reminder of how profound small kindnesses can feel in the face of overwhelming grief, for starters, but then forgot about it in all the hubbub of all the life–and death–that came afterward.
Sometimes it’s painful to remember what was. Other times, it’s good to look upon reminders of it and see how much light still shines now from all the sweet what-was that came before.