And the Grammy goes to…

I am doing something completely unheard of for me tomorrow.  For the first time in at least three years, I am taking the day off just for me.  I have a massage scheduled first thing in the morning, but the rest of the day is free.  I don’t have a plan. I don’t have an appointment.  I have a day, a whole day, to do nothing or everything.  It’s my choice.

After I dropped the kids off at their dad’s tonight, I went to the grocery store.  I’m not used to being there without the children so I kind of wondered, lost in thought.  I just needed a couple of little things… one thing… I needed one thing.  I was out of wine and just wanted to sit in silence with a glass of white wine and a Christmas tree full of lights in a dark room.

There is something therapeutic about Christmas trees for me.  It’s like holding a sleeping baby on your chest or listening to the waves with a full moon shining over the ocean.  They work better than any pill or therapy session.

So I was making my purchase and grateful to be one step closer to Relaxtown, USA when a little hand pulled on my pant leg.  A child, maybe 4 or 5 years old, was crying.  I knelt down and she hugged my neck so tightly, it broke my heart.  Through the big crocodile tears she told me she had lost her mom somewhere in the cold part of the store.

We had an announcement made and within seconds a wild-eyed woman came around the corner at mach 10 yelling her baby’s name.  The two hugged for a minute, said I love you at least 20 times and then pulled me in for a group hug.

Mom asked the little girl where she went, and the little angel said with a proud smile that when she turned around and didn’t see mom anymore she walked to the front and saw this lady (that would be me) who looked like …

wait for it… wait for it…


Are you kidding me kid?!  The child thought I looked like her grandmother?!

I smiled politely, wished them both well and then may or may not have whispered under my breath that there is no Santa as I snagged my bottle on the way out the door.

Ironically, “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer” was playing on the speakers as I left.

Let’s see how long I have to sit in front of this tree before my face fades from that image.




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