Thursday, September 23, 2010

Minor Miracle, appreciated

Today was a busy day, the first day of classes at our homeschool co-op. We scooted home in the early afternoon so Snuggler could change clothes before heading out soccer practice. Dancer headed to ballet. Shin guards, a book for the bus, food, water bottles, bus passes, and we were out the door.

It's a long bus ride to soccer, but in a town where activities routinely cost $500 a semester, this league costs $60 for the season -- uniform included. So we shlep 45 minutes on a bus, and walk ten minutes from there: Wednesdays for practice, Saturdays for Little Guy's game, Sunday afternoons for Snuggler's game.

Tonight, just as we arrive at the field, Snuggler says she's thirsty. "You have a water bottle," I replied. Except she didn't. She'd left her Kleen Kanteen, with insulated sleeve, on the bus. Gulp. Or rather, no gulp of water -- just a deep sigh from me. Snuggler loses a lot of things. Expensive things. It gets me down sometimes.

I vaguely made a mental note to file a hopeless lost-item claim with the transportation authority, and glumly went to the nearby library to read books with Little Guy.

We left as it was getting dark, walked a long way to a new bus stop, waited 20 minutes for a bus, gave up and took a different bus, got on a train, and had to walk nearly half a mile to get home. Six blocks from home the skies opened up, with thunder and lightning and torrential rain. I didn't have an umbrella, and my laptop was in my tote bag. We huddled under an awning for a bank for a while, until Snuggler said, "Why don't you go into the grocery store and get some plastic bags to cover your laptop?" Good idea. I did that.

I'd forgotten my cell phone at home, so I had no idea what time it was, or if Dancer had arrived before us or was waiting out the storm at a different train stop. So we made a dash for it, Snuggler and Little Guy shrieking with delight at the freedom of running in the rain. Arrived, soaked and needing to figure out what to have for the other half of supper (the first half having been eaten before soccer).

I remembered there was homemade pea soup in the fridge -- ahh! I discovered Dancer had left ballet before the rain started, and had an umbrella with her. And then I got this amazing email:

Eric and Frederick picked up a water bottle on the [bus route] and saw [your last name] on it. Orange bottle in gray holder. I'll drop it off with your doorman sometime this week. Does that work for you?
A friend from down the street's husband and son had been on the SAME bus route, on the SAME bus, on the SAME day and sat in the SAME seat... and found Snuggler's water bottle.

A different friend recently defined a miracle as being given just what you need, when you need it.

Wow, I needed that!


  1. I had a minor miracle yesterday, too: walked to the train station from work, got on the train, watched the storm from the train window, got off the train in NYC and the rain was done, and I was able to walk home.

  2. Sometimes it's a small small world.