Haloes

The heat was aggressive today.  It knocked the civility out of drivers.  It was implicated in the four accidents I saw and drove the bugs into my ears.  Soupy, swampy, angry, it would not rest until it had exploded (it was quite the sight, it really was) the bottle of Dr. Pepper I had carried with me to the car.  Pssssshhhhh Bang Splat fiiiiizzzzzzzzzzz.  Too bad they don't make interior windshield wipers.

Such sweet things happened, nonetheless.  They may not seem related, but they are.  My friend Heather's baby boy, Ryder, was born at 4:44 PM, a good omen of some sort, I'm sure.  Ryder's going to be loved something fierce by all of us who love Heather, and by Heather herself, so full of love.  Heather's been asking Ryder to come out and play for some time now, and forever now, he will.

All the way across the country, meanwhile, another mother, this one named Danielle, was tending to her two—taking care, listening, watching them tangle and grow.  Danielle, too, is a very special woman, a person whose priorities in life (and gentleness, and dreams) have so much to teach.  Danielle gives everything—to her family, to this book world, to people like me—and the next day she gets up, and somehow does it all again.

Today I was a recipient of Danielle's exceptional gifts.  I was, and I don't know what to say.

When I say that I don't know what to say, I really mean that.  I don't.  Kindnesses like hers cannot be answered.

Simply, then, with gratitude, I share her words here, which I found at just the right time of this tumultuous and yet still beautiful day.

I am sending my love to these two mothers right now.  In a world this hot, in a summer this thick with heat, they teach us how to carry on with dignity and grace.