Most of them were pretty humbling: a doctor who opened his office with free health care for Hurricane Sandy victims; a young bride who married her quadriplegic veteran fiancé; a soccer team that let its manager, a student with Down Syndrome, start a match. There were people who saved animals, people who helped the homeless, people who defended injustice. Random acts of compassion and kindness and care.
Then, I saw this note. I was sitting alone with my laptop in our dining room — my husband was upstairs napping between our Christmas party commitments; my teen daughter was working on her book review of The Handmaid's Tale — so no one was really within listening range. But, I couldn't help myself.
"Oh!" I said aloud and my eyes began to water.
Wow, does this resonate for me. My own "wee one" is not so very "wee" anymore. And, I'm sorry to report that snuggling left the picture many many moons ago, I'm afraid. Along with bedtime stories and holding hands at crosswalks.
What a lovely, generous act. (I only wish I had thought of it first.)