Patches and Remembering

I’m very aware as my train wends its way home tonight that it’s been weeks since I’ve posted anything to my small blog. As we pull into the harbor stop, everything is dark: water, air, platform, commuters shuffling to cars.  A few lights do shine off the water surface; I suspect a fitting picture of what we may feel in this still very new year.

Since I’ve written here we suffered the Sandy Hook tragedy. Various holidays have come and gone. One year departed and the next rolled in. It seems we got to the edge of the “cliff,” took a look, and somebody or some bodies did something to avoid a steep or immediate drop,  we’ll see. But in all this, I’m fairly sure our minds have not been far from the families of those children and responders. Perhaps that is as it should be.

And since I don’t have words that come close to a response to this terrible event, I want to write about something very small that happened at CVS this weekend. I popped in to pick up a prescription for the 5 day antibiotic whack-pack the doctor sent so that my middle ear would drainand my flight tomorrow wouldn’t be painful. While standing in the rather long line, my mind wandered to wonder whether this store might carry those iron-on patches you usually get at the fabric or, “back in the day”, the “dime store.”   I paid for the pills and coupons came streaming out of the register. I rolled them up, headed for a browse and, to my surprise and delight, I came across a package of iron-ons hanging right there on a random peg in an aisle of random things. One less errand to run! But there was more!

The price of the patches was $3.99, and as I stood in another rather long line at the register in the front of the store, I scanned through the coupon roll. Mixed into the items I don’t buy was  a BONUS coupon –free money! And good for–you guessed already, didn’t  you?– $3.99!

I can’t tell you exactly how the tax worked out, but I left with pills and patches having spent about $1.26 in total. I admit that now, on this rocking train flying down the track, this story feels like a very small light against a very big darkness; perhaps it’s a little silly. But I’d rather let it remind me that sometimes we’re given what we need at the point of need. I hope those reeling from losses we can’t imagine will know they are remembered, and that they find much big  help in this time of need.

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