It had been an especially trying day.

My husband was on vacation and had chosen to spend the day at summer camp with one of our sons. I needed to remain close to home, as I was expecting several emails and phone calls vital to a long term project. The children who remained at home were fractious and grumpy, arguing over the use of the computer and who, exactly, was responsible for picking up the Barbies. Despite the plethora of down and out stuff, they were “booored!” and “Tirreedddd!” and wanted to go AWAY, go SOMEWHERE, do SOMETHING. I tried my usual tricks; pulled out the playdoh and the books on tape, tried sending them outside to roller skate.

Nothing helped. So I decided I’d take a quick run to the grocery with the two youngest for Italian bread and lemons, leaving the older ones at home to answer the phone. I fussed at the girls in the store. No one wanted to hold my hand, they wanted to add multiple foods to the list and this one couldn’t stand next to that one and whyyyyyy can’t you buy more Dora soup, Mommy? I struggled to just finish the trip, counting the hours until bedtime and vowing, Never, never again. I completed the trip - finally - and made my way out of the store. Passing the Redbox machine of dvds, I entertained the idea of renting a movie. Why not? Only a dollar a day, maybe I’d be able to find a movie that they hadn’t seen before and buy myself a quieter night. I might even get something for myself.

I tooled through the selections and my girls were blessedly quiet for a moment. They whispered and giggled about the selections offered and debated where the movie would be dispensed. While I studied the choices, an older man walked by. “Hi, pretty girls. Hi, Momma. How are you?” he said with a grin and a hat tip. (I live in the South.) “Those your girls?” he continued, “They sure are pretty, look like they’re having a good time, too.” To be honest, I had no idea what they looked like, or if they were having fun - I was too wrapped up in my own gloom and doom. “I’ve got two girls. One doesn’t live around here and she doesn’t talk to me anymore. The other girl? She died in a car accident when she was not much older than that one there - gesturing to my youngest - and I miss her every day of my life. Enjoy those girls.”

He blew them a kiss and sauntered off, leaving me still a bit gloomy about my rotten day, but more able to see the forest for the trees. Don’t get me wrong - I’ll still have bad days and most likely complain about them to everyone in sight, but I’ll try to remember the lesson I learned today.