Costco conflict

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The lady was rude; there was no doubt about that. She was rude in a way that made me physically hurt for the person the rudeness was directed to. My much younger companion, the victim of the remark, swallowed the bait and bit back, with a snotty retort, more to assuage her wounded pride than anything else. I wanted to hide under my shopping cart.

“Just walk away, I pleaded. It’s not worth it, she is an elder, and she may have recently lost her husband or something equally traumatic. I didn’t raise you to behave this way.” Alas, there is only so much you can say to an adult child.

My youngest responded, loudly enough for everyone on the same aisle to hear her “Well, I will report her to management for how she is treating customers, then.” I was mortified as I felt the stares. I loathe confrontation to begin with, and I certainly didn’t like the unforgiving spirit I saw in my precious woman-child. She continued to mumble and complain about Costco and how it’s too full of people and she was never going back as I wondered who she really belonged to and how I could get her out of there before she blew a gasket.

Gently and cautiously, I continued to suggest reasons people behave insensitively and how we give them the benefit of the doubt. She calmed down but when we got close to check-out, she said, “I’m still reporting her”, but I noticed she smiled when she said it. Then she said, “I tell you what, Mom, buy me a hot dog and I won’t say anything.” I said, “Done, while I reached into my wallet and grabbed a bill”.

This was her way of pleasing me without having to admit she had lost the zeal to persecute. This made it look like I had to bribe her to keep her from doing the deed, but she knows I would have bought her the $1 hot dog, either way. I’m calling it a win.

This too (the chaos) shall pass

Morgan and a FL sunset

Morgan and a FL sunset

How did the time get away from me so quickly this morning?  My daily routine was all out of whack and it wasn’t even 8:00am yet.

As my daughter reminded me that we had to drop off her car before her hair appointment, the phone rang, adding a few minutes more delay.  Finally, I was in the car and on my way and then I saw him.  Our elderly neighbor was slowly making his way to the side of the road, waving his hands up and down holding what appeared to be a card.  I had to stop, even though I knew this would make me even later.

He had a card for the bride and groom, but expressed his apologies that he and his wife couldn’t attend the wedding.  He hung in my passenger-side window and began to remind me of how my children used to plant flowers with them.  As much as I knew I needed to go, I couldn’t.  This little bit of conversation and the card and well wishes to my daughter were important to him and appreciated by me.  He solicited a promise from me that I would remind my daughter of the times planting flowers and encourage her to teach her children to garden as well.  As I made my way to pick up my daughter, I remember thinking about how fortunate I’ve been to have great neighbors and friends.

Fast forward past long appointments, crazy traffic, and Costco crowds, and “the list”; the one that never seems to shorten and once again, the stress level seemed to reach it’s almost breaking point.  I just had to call my sister.  Just hearing her voice helped right away and she began to remind of a few things.

First she said, it’s all going to work out and then she provoked me to remember; these emotions aren’t just about the many “to dos”, or even about the chaos of preparing for a wedding.  More than anything, it’s the deep-down inside knowing that in a few days, my baby will be gone.  I’m holding that part in, to deal with it later, alone, after all the relatives and friends return to their everyday lives.

With that realization, we both gushed fresh tears, but they were cleansing ones.  They absolved my earlier guilt that said I couldn’t handle all of this planning and preparation without wanting to hide in my bedroom.  She left me with a heartfelt prayer and hung up to begin cooking dinner for her family and mine.  It’s the little things that mean so much.

I can’t even count the number of people who have called, emailed, messaged or sent word by a family member that they are there for me, if I need any help as “wedding day” looms closer.  Then there are the wise voices of counsel that comfort and provide that faith bolstering word when things get overwhelming.  And as for me, I’m smiling now as I write, although I still have tears.  They are happy tears though.  I’m so blessed with so many people who love me.

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