Stopped in Knoxville last night. Because I rented my home for Sewanee's graduation, I was homeless and thought Knoxville was a good place to stop to give me an easier reentry to the mountain.

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The clerk at the front desk was a bit distracted when I arrived - everything was distracted about her. I could've been wearing a hat made out of Twinkies and she wouldn't have noticed.

I told her that I usually called in advance but hadn't - that if at all possible, could I have a first floor room with easy access. That's when she realized I had a tube up my nose.

About 45 minutes later, I lugged my body to my car and then my room, which was perfectly located and perfectly appointed.

I hope you might be wondering why I was at the front desk for 45 minutes.

The clerk (Jenna) lost her mother two years ago to a pulmonary disease. *sigh*

It was Mother's Day. She needed to talk. She needed to cry. She needed comfort. She needed a mother.

So I was.

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As I was leaving the front desk, Jenna insisted she would meet me at my room and carry in my oxygen concentrator. I told her I would call the front desk to beckon her. But she was onto me because she talked about how stubborn her mother could be about accepting assistance. We both laughed when she met me at my car and I observed how intuitive she was.

We hugged with goodbyes and I whispered, "You just made your mother and this mother so happy."

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It was a perfect vignette closing for my day. I was missing my own children something fierce though Chase had called me from Singapore and Rachel from Oregon and my tummy was still full from the fabulous brunch I'd had with David.

I am so greedy. I can never get enough of my children.

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When I get home, one of the first things I'm going to do is print out a copy of The Gates of Prayer (Google it) to mail to Jenna. It's a prayer/poem with words of great comfort. I know this because I, too, miss my mother every single day.