The girl that brought me to tears

Walking accross the Starbucks parking lot today I passed a woman who was stressfully gathering her two kids our of her vehicle, while fighting the violent, wet wind we had today. It was so ugly out and she looked so frazzled, that I wondered why she decided to go to Starbucks with her two kids at all. The boy was about 4-5 and the little girl was about 2, just started walking. I noticed her in line infront of me ordering steamers for her kids but was busy aligning my day in my head, as my trip out of town was cancelled due to the weather. As I was trying to convert a steamer of my own into a healthy hot chocolate by spinkling cocoa into it, time froze when I looked at those kids again. The boy, now having collected his steamer from the bar, or his mom, was quietly and obediently sipping it, standing in everyone's way. But it was the little girl that yanked at my heart and soul. Her cute blonde upright ponytail quivered like an antenna as she looked up and pondered what her mom was doing, so inoccently observing her every move. She looked lost, stading there by herself as her mom scrambled for this or that between counters, but there was a confident and trusting resolve in the awe in her little face. I noticed a little drop of milk foam on her coat.

Emotion swept over me but I had to finish convincing my hot chocolate it was a steamer with chocolate sprinkles and hit the road again. I had two hours of work to do in 45 minutes and appreciated the need to move on. So it's no wonder that I found myself in unstopable tears in my gym later on that night. As I was lifting a 25 lb weight over my head, that little girl flashed into my mind. A few minutes later, Stef came into the gym because apparently, he was the only one who could hear my sobs over "Finger Eleven" on my iPod. To this moment, I'm not completely convinced I know why there was such a strong emotional back lash to that little girl. Maybe because I haven't grieved not being able to have kids normally, or maybe ever, for some time now. Maybe because her inoccence and awe together were so beautiful. Or maybe because I desperately wanted to grab a brown Starbucks napking and slowly, kindly, wipe that milk foam off her coat. But I didn't. That's what mothers do.