I reconnected with a friend a few months ago.
This is when social media can be a blessing.
We sat together on the soccer field when our children were young many years ago.
We had wonderful long talks during those games.

At the time, she lived very close to me.
However, we were never in each other’s homes.
It was a friendship based on children, school, and sports.
We always enjoyed our talks on the field.

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With a grandchild expected to arrive in a few months, I am shopping for baby furniture.
I always told my children that I planned to have a full nursery here in our home.
I wanted it to be very easy for them for come her with their children.
I just want you to bring yourselves and the baby, was what I always said.

Now is the time to shop.
My daughter and her husband have already selected the things for their nursery.
It is time for me to look around for nursery furniture for our house.
It almost feels like it did when I was twenty-four and purchasing our nursery for the first time.

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It was a Thursday night ritual.
I had my favorite spot on the sofa.
I could look behind me and see my mother sitting on the chair.
It was something we enjoyed doing together.

I always had to make sure I turned on the television minutes before the actual show.
It was the days when televisions had to warm up a bit.
There was no instantaneous picture at the turn of a button.
There were no television controls; to change a channel you had to get up from the chair.

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I had to get something gift wrapped.
I never utilize that service; however in this case it was necessary.
I found a perfect gift but I actually purchased the last one.
There was no box for the item that I wanted to wrap.

I paid for my purchase.
The salesgirl carefully wrapped it in tissue paper.
She directed me to the gift wrap area.
She told me to show the woman my receipt.

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The mother of our dear friend died on Thanksgiving Day.
My husband came into the kitchen, looking down at his phone.
He had just gotten the news.
My heart hurt.

This dear friend was my husband’s best man at our wedding.
This dear friend went to grade school, high school, and college with my husband.
This dear friend shared the driving down to Georgia Tech each year.
In fact, my husband destroyed an eight-track tape on one of their long drives.

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We were having spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.
I opened the box and proceeded to put the pasta in the boiling water.
I did what my mother used to do.
I broke a handful of the pasta in half before dropping it in the water.

I heard a piece of pasta fall to the floor.
It is not easy to find a dry piece of pasta on my floor since the color tends to blend.
Mostly, I have to find it by hearing.
I am pretty good at hearing where something falls.

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The same description always seems to be used for my husband and I.
It is a description I have gotten used to hearing.
I am coming to realize that it is not something that every couple can claim.
It is part of who we are.

The words, high school sweethearts, were used during a dinner conversation.
The rarity of two people meeting in high school and then marrying was discussed.
The added detail of these two people going to different colleges in different states was mentioned.
The wonder of all that shared history amazed some at the table.

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It has been a long time since I took a break from writing each day.
However, I am taking a week off so that my daughters and I can spend some time together.
Mother/ daughter time is precious.
We are looking forward to seeing some new places and just being together.

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It’s that time of year again.
Fall clothes are seen on racks in the stores.
Summer clothes, remaining after the season, are now on clearance.
Aisles are set aside for back to school items.

Shelves are filled with folders, binders, and notebooks.
Bins are filled with pens, pencils, and crayons.
Neatly arranged displays have rulers, erasers, pencil sharpeners, and index cards.
Not too far away are backpacks and lunch boxes.

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I saw them at the end of the aisle.
A little boy was in the seat of a shopping cart; his back was facing me.
His mother was looking for something on a shelf.
It was not until she turned around that I could see that she was pregnant.

There is something so beautiful about a pregnant woman.
There is a mother’s glow that is undeniable.
She was carrying her baby so well.
A round ball of a belly was in front of her.

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