Sometimes, it seems to me that the smallest things; those that would appear insignificant; those that would give most people not even the slightest pause; those are the things that bring tears to my eyes and an ache to my heart.
I was heading into town tonight after work to go to the pharmacy; I'd been up since 2:00 this morning--awake all night while I replayed scenarios through my head; meaningless, of course, because the path has already been taken and I'm starting to realize that at some point, you just cannot turn back.
I pulled out of our driveway and started down our road when I saw a group of teens walking down the opposing lane, spreading fully across it. I slowed down as I neared them; I was so curious about what they were doing--there were six of them in total, three boys and three girls, I'm guessing between the ages of 15 and 16.
One of the boys carried a guitar, a girl carried a saxophone, another boy carried a pink helium balloon that read, "Get Well Soon". Since I was alone in the car, I didn't even need to try to mask my sobs.
My hope is that no matter what and no matter where, the recipient of those gifts will always, always carry with her the memory of opening her door and finding them there. My hope is that she will always have in her heart the music that they played. My hope is that no matter the roads that she wanders, she will know that she is never alone and that she was loved, greatly, and that this knowledge will carry her through even the darkest days.
And if I were going to write of things that I can't at this moment, I would say that after I passed them on my way back home and they waved to me, and my eyes connected with one of the girls that was walking, I would tell you that I walked in the door, checked my caller I.D. and email, pulled out my planner, took out an email that is ragged and has been softened from it's repeated removal and replacement in the place where I stored it, read it one last time with uncontrolled tears streaming from my eyes, folded it back in half and put it through my shredder.
And the band played on.