The mother of our dear friend died on Thanksgiving Day.
My husband came into the kitchen, looking down at his phone.
He had just gotten the news.
My heart hurt.

This dear friend was my husband’s best man at our wedding.
This dear friend went to grade school, high school, and college with my husband.
This dear friend shared the driving down to Georgia Tech each year.
In fact, my husband destroyed an eight-track tape on one of their long drives.

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We were having spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.
I opened the box and proceeded to put the pasta in the boiling water.
I did what my mother used to do.
I broke a handful of the pasta in half before dropping it in the water.

I heard a piece of pasta fall to the floor.
It is not easy to find a dry piece of pasta on my floor since the color tends to blend.
Mostly, I have to find it by hearing.
I am pretty good at hearing where something falls.

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The same description always seems to be used for my husband and I.
It is a description I have gotten used to hearing.
I am coming to realize that it is not something that every couple can claim.
It is part of who we are.

The words, high school sweethearts, were used during a dinner conversation.
The rarity of two people meeting in high school and then marrying was discussed.
The added detail of these two people going to different colleges in different states was mentioned.
The wonder of all that shared history amazed some at the table.

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It has been a long time since I took a break from writing each day.
However, I am taking a week off so that my daughters and I can spend some time together.
Mother/ daughter time is precious.
We are looking forward to seeing some new places and just being together.

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It’s that time of year again.
Fall clothes are seen on racks in the stores.
Summer clothes, remaining after the season, are now on clearance.
Aisles are set aside for back to school items.

Shelves are filled with folders, binders, and notebooks.
Bins are filled with pens, pencils, and crayons.
Neatly arranged displays have rulers, erasers, pencil sharpeners, and index cards.
Not too far away are backpacks and lunch boxes.

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I saw them at the end of the aisle.
A little boy was in the seat of a shopping cart; his back was facing me.
His mother was looking for something on a shelf.
It was not until she turned around that I could see that she was pregnant.

There is something so beautiful about a pregnant woman.
There is a mother’s glow that is undeniable.
She was carrying her baby so well.
A round ball of a belly was in front of her.

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When I was a little girl my mother always said that she had eyes in the back of her head.
For the longest time I really believed her.
She seemed to always know when I was doing something I should not have been doing.
I wanted to separate her hair in the back and see if she really had a second set of eyes.

When I became a mother myself I began to understand.
I did not have a second set of eyes in the back of my head.
Rather, I had a very alert set of mother eyes.
Mother eyes are different than any other kind of eyes.

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I was eating my healthy grain clusters for breakfast.
I laughed because years ago it would have simply been called, cereal.
However, today cereal can range from sugary choices to a more healthy variety.
I put the healthy grain clusters in my bowl.

I wanted to slice a banana to add some fruit to my breakfast.
I peeled the banana and immediately cut off both ends.
Each of the banana circles fell on top of my bowl.
The two ends, along with the peel, were thrown in the trash.

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I have a book on one of my bookshelves that I am delighted to have in my possession.
It is a reprint of an 1836 original.
The book was written by Noah Webster.
Yes, that Noah Webster, the man who compiled our dictionary.

The book is called, Lessons From Nature For Youth.
The back cover has a synopsis of the book that is a treasure.
It was a book that was used in schools.
It was a book that taught children valuable lessons they could learn from the animals.

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She was sitting in the seat at the front of the cart, though she was barely visible.
Her mother was shopping for decorative pillows.
The pillows that were being purchased were stacked all around her.
They did not start out that way.

They had been in the basket of the cart, to be sure.
However, building a fort with pillows in a shopping cart is much more fun.
Building a fort anywhere is much more fun.
I remember quite a few of our own forts many years ago.

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