Monthly Archives: September 2013

We were in line at Dunkin Donuts. An elderly lady stood behind me in line. She clutched my arm. Her hands were cold.

I was dreading getting up this morning. I looked at the time on my phone and it said 7:14. I closed my eyes and opened them again to find that it was 7:34. I panicked and woke Ari up. I told him we were going to be late.

Ari, Samara and I went to Blue Sky Bakery this morning for muffins. When we were getting ready to leave, I noticed that Samara had thrown a bunch of books on the floor. Blue Sky has a variety of children’s books for kids to read. I asked Samara and Ari to pick up all the books from the floor and put them back on the bookshelf. Samara responded by screaming “No!” at me. I said:

“Okay, then we’re not going to ride the scooter home.”
She finally conceded and put the books away with Ari’s help.

Then I asked the kids to put their used plates and cups in the garbage can. They resisted at first but they begrudgingly did it.

Finally, when we were getting ready to leave, I asked that Ari assist Samara with her balance bike. She needed a hand getting out of the door. It was too heavy for her to carry and I knew that he could help her. He responded by ignoring me and riding his scooter down the block. I kindly reminded him that we wouldn’t be riding the bike or scooter home unless he helped his sister.

“Okay.” He said. With that he held the door and guided Samara get her bike outside.

I realized that the process of leaving took longer than it would have taken had I just picked up the garbage and the children’s vehicles myself, but I wanted the kids to have responsibility for their belongings and their actions.

As we stepped out the door, an elderly man (who was also eating at Blue Sky) turned to me and said:
“I want to congratulate you for handling the children this way.” I was floored.
“Really?” I asked him. “Thank you!”

With that he walked down the street and didn’t say another word.

That one sentence had a profound impact on me. Too often, I’m stopped by strangers who want to give me unsolicited parenting advice. Some people like to criticize my parenting or tell me what I’m doing “wrong.”

This man took the time out of his day to tell me what I was doing “right.” It made my heart swell with pride. It made me feel like a great mom. I wish he had stopped for a second longer. I would have given him a hug.

Thank you mystery man for bringing light to my day and making me feel like I did something right.

It’s gray, thick and all encompassing. I can feel it on my face. It’s surrounds me like a dense itchy uncomfortable blanket. I want to move but I can’t see a thing, except for gray. It’s deep dark gray. I am at the mercy of it.

I move slowly and cautiously. My feet are bare. I can feel the condensation on my toes. I close my eyes. It’s black when they’re closed, but when I open them the grayness pierces them. My face is covered with droplets. I keep blinking my eyes because they’re saturated.

Step by step.
Inch by inch.
I am walking into the gray. It all looks the same. But I know on the other side of this, there is clean air and I will be able to breathe it.

On the other side of this fog he will be standing there. He will take my hand and we will walk together side by side onto the sand. Our feet will touch the cool wet sand together and I will not walk alone.

I lift my foot with the knowledge that this grayness is not forever. It’s only a passing thing. I will step one foot at a time through this fog.

I will make my way to that sand. I breathe into the opening in my chest. I inhale the grayness, and I exhale it out.

Each step I take, my feet feel steadier and I get the hang of moving in this dense atmosphere. It doesn’t seem so overwhelming as I learn to work with it. I integrate it into my being. And then I see it. There’s an opening. I pace myself. One foot at a time, inch by inch, I step toward that clear space within the gray. My body is saturated in water.

I am no longer afraid of the fog. I cut through it with my hands, using them like knives. I move slowly and deliberately toward the clear opening.

Then it happens. My face is soaked in sweat and I pierce through that opening. There’s a cool clean gust of wind that flows through my entire body. The sweat runs down my forehead and nearly disappears.

I look over and he is standing on the sand, his hand out stretched waiting for me. He’s been there all along. I take his hand and together we walk. I am not alone.