Sign or Coincidence, I Don't Care

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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.

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