I have, by and large, stopped looking for and believing in signs. My life is such shit right now that I can only think of signs as punishment. Plus my very pragmatic boyfriend can always explain them, often in ways I don't like.
This past week has been a tough week. It's been especially rough as a daughter. Yesterday, I left my mom's nursing home upset and angry. As I was making my way home, winding through back roads, I found myself behind a pick up truck. It swerved to run through all the big puddles. I was immediately brought back to maybe age 5 or 6. My mom would do the same thing. I can remember opening the window and sticking my arm out to see if it would get wet. I loved that my mom did that.
I did that when my kids were young (and confession time: I still do it if I'm sure there's no pothole under the puddle). They loved it. It always made me smile and think of my mom.
It's amazing how splashing through a few puddles can bring me to tears and make the anger subside. At least a little.