…and it makes me happy

Today I made lunch.

Nothing special about that. But I did it with a joyful heart and a silly spirit. I made lunch for three “little” girls. I can call them that because, for a little longer, they are still shorter than I. They will always be younger than I, and although they are 14, they can still giggle like 7 year olds, and it makes me happy.

I made them a lunch they could easily have made for themselves, hotdogs, microwave mac-n-cheese, strawberries and glasses of water, and it makes me happy.

I used pastel plastic plates with compartments for food like the TV dinner trays we enjoyed as a treat in the 70’s, and it makes me happy.

These are smart, independent, happy girls who one day will be taking care of themselves and everyone else around them. However, I like taking care of them as long as they will let me, and it makes me happy.

As I listened to them chat and laugh while they ate their lunch, I wondered how my mom felt on these no-school snow days. Days she had planned activities for herself but which resulted in a house full of giggling girls. Mom is gone now, I can’t ask her how she felt. I have to believe she must have enjoyed those days. My heart remembers steaming mugs of hot chocolate when we came in from the snow, even if my mind cannot.  My heart recalls warm grilled cheese sandwiches dipped in steamy tomato soup, and it makes me happy.

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