I’m not the sort to pick up hitchhikers. I’m the sort who silently blesses their safe passage, hoping someone other than a vulnerable lone woman will help them reach their destination. Today, of all days, should have been no exception. But it was.
I detest driving this heavily truck-travelled, traffic-light-laden road. It is 2:30 on Saturday afternoon and I am free from the demands of home and children for a scant few hours. I can’t wait to sip tea and do some writing before steeping myself in the salt cave to cleanse the tension that remains of the past few days.
The phone vibrates. It’s a text from my daughter. She left the twins’ diaper bag in the trunk and they are crying. Thankfully, these are mechanical babies, part of a school project, and not actual grandchildren, but the need is real. If she fails this project, she fails to…
View original post 1,288 more words