“Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!”
Hug. Hug. Kiss. Kiss.
My two daughters look quite pleased with themselves. (I don’t crave the usual mother-ish offerings, and I’m inconveniently allergic to perfume – they find me difficult to shop for, they say.)
A recycled paper gift bag and smiles. A swirl of tissue paper falls back to reveal a plaque.
This one –
A single word – BELIEVE.
There’s something familiar about the picture …
It’s a piece from the Kelly Rae Roberts Collection – the companion to the one I received at Christmas. Remember … Dream Big?
This one –
“Love it, dolls! Thank you. So … why’d you pick this one?”
The not-so-little darlings shrug. “It sort of seemed the kind of thing you’d go for.”
The word comes alive. It wiggles and belly-dances – it’s gyrating, pirouetting madly. Can no one else see?
Believe. Believe. BELIEVE.
This is my second moment of spine-tingling, time-stood-still eureka …
From then on, Believe charges at me from every imaginable nook, and I embark on a gleeful digital rampage, snapping the avalanche of moments.
Like this one –
I even purchase a couple of the apparitions – the portable, affordable ones – and create a wall of BELIEVE in the bathroom. First thing in the morning, last thing at night and a couple of times in between, I’m reminded to … BELIEVE.
This afternoon a young lady employee almost collides into me in the produce section of the supermarket. My eyes pop out of my head when I see what she’s wearing.
“I hope you don’t think I’m crazy,” I venture diffidently. “The words on your shirt … I sort of collect them. May I take a picture?”
She obligingly strikes a pose. I click.
Here she is –
DREAM BIG …
Dream Big for Christmas and Believe on Mother’s Day.
Okay. So what next?