Earlier this month, at the end of the first day of school, my 12-year-old daughter asked me to drive her back to school so that she could set up her locker.
Grace just started middle school, and for the first time, she has her own locker. Per one of the many information-packed emails I received from the middle school administration over the summer, I had bought the optional-but-highly-recommended hanging locker organizer; a combination lock (featuring a preset three-digit combination for "keyless convenience"); and miscellaneous welcome-to-6th-grade, this-is-all-starting-to-add-up essentials: scientific calculator, wired headphones, "Learn to Play the Cello: Book 2."
We're lucky to live a few blocks from the middle school; Grace usually walks to school, along with her good friend who lives nearby. She couldn't carry all her locker stuff, though.
"Sure, I'll drive you over," I said.
We loaded everything into my car—called for Anna—and headed out.
As we approached the red-brick, Gothic-windowed middle school, Grace cleared her throat. "Once we go inside, Mom...don't say anything to anyone, OK?"
I met Grace's reflection in the rearview mirror. She cringe-smiled.
Anna sighed. "Grace!"
But... "Got it," I said. "I won't embarrass you, honey."
"Thank you, Mom! THANK YOU."
...yep.
Anna, meanwhile, started 3rd grade this fall. Within the past few weeks, both girls' schools have hosted open houses and welcome-back parties, plus the inaugural PTA meeting at Anna's school (where I'm back for year two as secretary of the PTA).
It has been...a lot. A lot, all at once.
I am so thankful, friends, for my wonderful co-workers at the library...many of whom switched shifts with me so that I could attend all of these back-to-school events for my daughters. Lately, the scheduling logistics...have not been easy. Have been nerve-wracking, in fact.
Two Tuesdays ago, Stanton needed to be out of town, unexpectedly, for a work project. That evening was Grace's 6th-grade open house, and both girls also had sports practices (Grace: lacrosse; Anna: soccer). That morning, I was at work at the library, trying to figure out how to get everyone everywhere later.
Also: dinner. Dinner would be good too. What would the girls and I eat?
I was thinking...trying to work...when one of my co-workers said, "It seems as though you could have used more rest this morning, Melissa."
I glanced at him. Did my best version of Grace's cringe-smile. "Are you saying I look tired?"
He laughed apologetically.
I laughed too. (OK, laugh-cried.)
"Are you saying I look tired?"
The other day, I was walking to elementary school pickup with my neighbor Evvie. I was sharing some of these stories with her: middle school, nerve-wracking back-to-school logistics, work.
Evvie listened, empathized, commiserated.
The late-afternoon sun shone down. Evvie and I paused at an intersection. I looked at her, exhaled.
"You're a really good friend," I told her (having a bit of a middle-school moment myself!).
Evvie made an aw-shucks gesture.
"True," I affirmed.
Despite the chaos of the past few weeks (months? this whole year?)...I feel extremely grateful. I feel this way because I'm very conscious of the really good people in my life: neighbors, friends, co-workers, family of course.
Even the staff at the local coffee shop—one of the last times I was there, the cook had my favorite egg sandwich (that would be the Vermonster!) ready for me before I'd even ordered it.
Moments like that—when the local coffee shop looks out for you, when your neighbor lets you vent, when an old friend calls you just to say hello, just because—they fill you up.
They're soulful; they're soul food.
Moments like that, you have to let people know what they mean to you.
So I did.
(Sorry, Grace. I just had to say something.)
Photo credit: Pixabay
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