A Comforting Moment

Being a dispatcher and chauffeur is one of the fun aspects of my life. I really do enjoy driving around, and I especially love it when I pick up or drop off one of my children at exactly the minute I had previously planned.

On most Sunday evenings, my mother-in-law tries her best to go out and meet friends at a prayer group. Watching her excited about the weekly event, prepare, and dress up livens the spirits of the whole house.

Last week, we had planned that I would pick her up at 6:15, giving me time to drop off my oldest at work. I stopped by the local bakery to buy a cake for her to share. It took me a few minutes to decide -- a nicely frosted, two layer decadent chocolate one or a rectangular flat one topped with glazed strawberries, grapes, and blueberries. As I stood, my toddler was rummaging about, attempting to dump garlic bread and banana creme pies into his little push cart. After finally deciding on the fruit glazed one, I realized that we needed to run to the register and car if we were going to make it on time.

Out of breath, we came home, not even realizing that my husband's car was gone. It was only 6:14, but even she was gone.

The teenagers informed me that they had both left for somewhere a few minutes ago. Despite the routine, it could have been a shopping trip as far as they were concerned. I left the youngest with them and drove towards the original destination.

And there they sat, in the parking lot, waiting for her friends, who rarely arrived before 6:30. Eager for a distraction, she waved towards me. Apparently my husband was trying to do me a favor by bringing her for me.

My mother-in-law's friends arrived shortly after. They assumed that at least one of us was attending with her, because it was a different sight to see -- the both of us standing around her. It was a mix-up after all, the kids, the little one were all at home alone... In her shoes, it must have been a comforting moment, family and friends surrounding her. I admit, there is the latent feeling of exhilaration that for two or three hours I can walk around freely in my house. I can sit around, feel relaxed, and talk, maybe even sing, with ease to my children. Despite the formality she indirectly tends to keep us under, I hope that when I am old and unable to drive that I too might someday look around and see family and friends right there, surrounding me.