This week I received the first phone call from my daughter (twelve hours away at college) with those tears of “I want to come home.”
So, I opened up the drawer of things I have stashed to send to her each week. Things I collect when I see something that makes me think of her.
I had her brothers write some notes to their sister (Mom, can’t I just text her?….NO!)
I sealed it in those flat rate shipping boxes and sent it off.
She texted me and I told her to look for something in the mail.
Her response was, “Does it have a spoon?”
Does it have a spoon? Oh, right, she had asked for a spoon a few weeks ago. I forgot. Lots of other things, but no spoon.
I chucked. “Does it have a spoon?” says so much:
- Will you take care of me?
- Did you send something from home. Real home. Not plastic.
- I’m your child that likes those extra things. Like a spoon sent from home.