Today was perfectly sad; sadly perfect. Earlier, I exploded at everyone when the boys came to me after my shower with broken pieces of one of my very favorite things. It was a little white decorative dish shaped curvy with a picture of a green knight, a signature by someone, and given to me by my mom. She bought it at a garage sale. I am still all a mess about it. It was in 100 pieces. Dallas handed me a bloody shard but was okay about getting cut.

I swore huge. I said fuck and goddamn and shit and hell and kids all in the same sentence. No doubt, fire rose up behind me because it was pretty hot where I was standing. I felt like the Wizard of Oz before he was found out. And I was naked. Yelling and vacuuming and bending over and throwing bed sheets and Aaron's post office boxes down the basement steps, with what God gave me.

~~~

I had to get the hell out of the house. Well, the hell had to go grocery shopping. My threat of leaving for the day only extended a short drive to Giant Eagle and back to refrigerate stuff.

Amid the mass of shoppers, I kept seeing an older teenage girl with what must have been her spunky, blue-jeaned grandma. The girl was blond, with her hair pulled up in a quick bundle. She wore no make up and had those furry boot slippers on with baggy clothes she'd probably slept in. She lazily helped her grandma fulfill her list, mostly just pushing the cart, and had trouble finding the grated cheese right in front of her face. No. She found it. I thought it was sweet, her helping.

I chose my long line to wait in. Grocery carts held hams and supported tired holiday shoppers' elbows. Baked goods and meat trays made it to the express aisles. A lady with two cans smiled enough to be let in line before a couple with a cartfull. Brad Pitt was in a tuxedo and Nicole Richie was arrested. The Christmas music was a blur at this point. My dish was still broken.

To my left stood the girl and her grandma. The girl started crying. A worker put her arm around her, spoke with her, and instructed the cashier to help her grandma with the WIC coupons. She was taking her away to help her. Maybe she knew her. Maybe not.

Seeing the girl cry made me cry. It made a lot of people feel a lot of the same things, because those who noticed her looked back repeatedly. I pictured myself hugging her and telling her everything was going to be okay, and then she'd laugh when I told her she made me cry.

Then she was gone, and it was my turn in line. My cashier was Barb like me, but she didn't see the girl crying. I forget what she talked to me about.