For a moment, it took her back.
She gasped as she saw her son.
He had on his daddy’s uniform jacket.
Arms flapping at his side, hem dragging on the floor.

Look at me, Mommy! I look like Daddy!
He did look like his daddy.
He wanted to be just like him.
As if his daddy’s jacket could transform him into a soldier.

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I was remembering the pretzel bag.
The brown bag with the handles that went around each day in elementary school.
It was a prized job to be the pretzel boy or the pretzel girl.
The chance to buy a soft pretzel to curb the hunger that inevitably struck mid-morning.

I never had the job, nor bought the pretzel.
I was an eraser clapper kind of girl.
I loved to take the erasers outside at the end of the day and clap the chalk dust off of them.
To each his own, I presume.

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If you were to look inside the closet in my foyer, you would see a collection of coats.
A long dress coat, two pea coats, and jackets in scrumptious colors.
I have coats to choose from for various occasions, yet I have a few I like better than others.
The ones I like the best and wear the most are the ones that have hoods.

If I wear the jacket everyday, it will most definitely have a hood.
A hood to pull up when it is windy.
A hood to pull up if it rains.
A hood, which covers my head but alleviates “hat hair” which most women understand.

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That moment when a man kisses your daughter and you think, “Hey! I don’t have to snap this guy like a twig! Awesome!

I read this comment from a prominent Texas pastor.
This pastor is a father of nine children.
He and his wife homeschool all of them.
His oldest daughter just got married.

To say that this pastor looks like a football linebacker is an understatement.
He could easily snap any young man in two, should his daughter’s purity be at stake.
He leads his congregation in a small Texas church.
Most importantly, he leads his family.

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I do not have a strong back.
It is probably due to wear and tear.
Delivering five children.
Many years of pushing one shopping cart while pulling another at the grocery store.

That is why I walk each day.
Yes, it is excellent prayer time.
Yes, it is a wonderful time of stillness.
Mostly, it is a way to keep my back strong.

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A barbershop in Canada is the target of a human rights complaint.
It is a barbershop that only grooms men.
The owners’ religious beliefs are such that he will not cut a woman’s hair.
He can only cut a woman’s hair if she is related to him.

A woman came into the shop and wanted a short haircut.
The owners refused.
The shop has been in business since 1925, operating the same way all these years.
The woman could have gone to other barbershops in Toronto but she chose this one.

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In elementary school, I remember a particular test that was given.
The instructions were to read the entire test before you begin.
I thought that reading through the test was a waste of time.
That was for people who may have trouble with the instructions.

Not me!
I just wanted to get the test done.
Doing a quick glance around the room, there were others doing the same thing.
We were feverishly writing, meticulously answering each question as we went along.

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We had a bird in our garage.
It flew in to get out of the cold.
The problem with birds in garages is getting them out.
They tend to find buckets or fertilizer spreaders and set up housekeeping.

We have had a bird in our house.
The tiny birds loved to perch on my evergreen Christmas wreath.
When the doorbell rang one night and we answered, the bird flew inside.
We spent hours that evening closing off rooms and getting the bird to fly out of the house.

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We were driving home on the turnpike after our daughter’s college visit.
I was enjoying the playlist I was listening to on my iPod.
My husband was driving and I was taking in the scenery.
Then I saw the billboard.

It’s not your forefather’s Valley Forge anymore.

Ever the writer, I got out my notepad and jotted down some thoughts.
The picture on the billboard was of George Washington in sunglasses.
He looked like an advertisement for Ray-Ban rather than the father of our country.
I know a thing or two about creativity, but this billboard bothered me.

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As I was driving up my street, I saw the wood.
Our neighbors, who just had a pool installed, had wood delivered to build a fence.
For whatever reason, the delivery company did curbside delivery only.
All of the post and rails were left on their grass at the end of the driveway.

I feel for them, lifting and hoisting posts from the curbside to the back yard.
Maybe there were extenuating circumstances as to why the company left the wood there.
But no matter the reason, it will eventually have to be moved.

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