It was gray and cold today, a day that followed yesterday’s 12 straight hours of chill-you-to-the-bone rain. Stepping out the door to let the dog out earlier this morning, I shivered at the damp cold in the air and rubbed my hands over goosebumps on my way back inside. Later, as I put my kids in the car, I recoiled at a few chilly gusts of wind, pulling my face into my coat’s collar.
That’s why, as I drove my kids to preschool, my eyebrows furrowed and my lips pursed when I saw a mom in a T-shirt walking down the street with her small son. No higher than her hips, her son was yanking his long sleeve T-shirt down around his fists, attempting to pull his arms inside the rest of his shirt while shuffling to keep up with his mom. He was cold.
“Why don’t you have a coat?” I exclaimed to myself aloud. “It’s thirty-nine degrees outside!”
In the back seat, my two year old daughter questioned, “Ah wong, Mom?” (What’s wrong, Mom?)
I turned onto a side road and explained what I’d seen, ultimately promising, “No matter what, I will always keep you warm.”
After some brief self-reflection, I added with a drip of humor, “And that’s because I have a constant worry that you are cold.”
My daughter replied a not very convincing “oh” of understanding, and I quietly laughed to myself, knowing I’d inherited that constant worry from my own mother.
Growing up, there were many mornings that I’d awaken to find Continue reading