To my kindred spirit on the Grassy Knoll of Soccer,
You were there, too. Perhaps you were a soccer mom, grumbling about the 32-degree weather, just like me. In May. (Side note – Seriously, Minnesota?? You can do better.) Maybe you dragged your chair and blanket to your child’s sideline and watched the game just down the way.
You may not realize, but you made a such an impact on my life that day. I was there on my own, without half my family. My husband was taking “hospital duty,” switching with me for the day so I could go to our son’s game. I had spent the previous five days with our hospital kid, our cancer kid, our spunky, bright eyed 3-year-old who’s fighting a pretty big battle. It’s our routine to switch places: the saddest kind of parent swap, really. It’s necessary in our little corner of the world, at this point in time. Those weeks of hospital stays give me that frazzled, crazy mom look, paired with the “not quite sure when I showered last” aroma.
I was pretty proud of myself that soccer morning, though. Not only had I showered, gotten my soccer kiddo to his game on time, but I even had a warm cup of coffee in my hand to boot. Mom for the hat-trick! I’ve got this!
Then, it happened.
As I walked back to my car after the game, I started the pocket pat down. You know, the one to locate the car keys. Front pockets. Back pockets. Hoodie pocket. Repeat. No keys. In the effort of carrying my comfort items to hunker down for the coldest soccer game ever, I lost my car keys. I looked across the vast, green fields that I had just trekked, and felt that sinking feeling of dread. The needle in the haystack that was now my car keys.
Feeling defeated, I dropped my chair and blanket down next to my car, planning to leave everything there while I looked. This might be the correct place in the story to add that those were my alternate keys already. I had already lost my “main keys” in my house. So, armed with the knowledge that I HAD TO FIND THESE KEYS, I sent my son home with a friend and mentally prepared myself for another expedition, all the while kicking myself for my clumsiness.
I just happened to check the door to see if perhaps, in my all of my glory already, I had also left the car unlocked as well. Maybe I could throw my stuff in the trunk while I went searching. And, lo and behold, it was unlocked!
And there, sitting on my front seat was a little note, tucked under my missing keys.
I read and reread the note with tears in my eyes. It was a simple, kind gesture. You took the time to find my car (with the handy remote!) and saved me the time of scouring the fields or trekking to the lost and found. You showed me kindness. It could have been a frustrating, maddening experience for me, but instead, I drove off with a sense of fellowship and warm fuzzies. Since I didn’t get a chance to thank you in person, this is for you:
Thank you for being good people. Thank you for taking the extra time to track down my car. Thank you for giving this cancer momma a bit of help in her current crazy state of mind. And finally, thank you for reaffirming my belief of the true goodness in this little Rochester community we call home.
