It was the side entrance to our house, and I noted nothing special until I reached out to open it. When I saw the glasses, I smiled. I was loved. I was so touched, in fact, that I put down my bags and grabbed my cell phone to shoot a picture. Except that my 17-year-old son opened the door and ruined it. And that made me feel more loved. (And then I had him close the door so I could try again.)
It’s not a long story or particularly poignant—just a reminder to me to recognize love when it is demonstrated.
Yesterday morning, my husband and I traded cars so that I could take his more road-worthy vehicle on a trip to visit my mom and aid my siblings hours away. I had removed everything I needed from my vehicle; he had done the same. My plan was to leave about 1, after working out at the gym and then working on lesson plans and grading papers at home. To maximize my time, I left for the gym about 5:30, saying goodbye to my dear husband, who would be at work before I returned, and knowing I needed to return before 7:30 so I could say goodbye to my dear son before he, too, left for the day.
Quite simply, before my husband left, he noticed my prescription sunglasses still in the van and put them on the doorknob, where I would be sure to see them and not leave without them. Love. My son was waiting for my promised return so he could hug me goodbye before he left. Love.
Surrounded by love. Symbolized by a pair of sunglasses on a doorknob.