The Grass Is Green Enough

The tangled mess lay on my dining room table like a sloppy plate of spaghetti. T-shirts, sweatshirts, flannels, belts, a couple of baseball caps, pants, shorts, jackets, thermals, boxers, shoes, socks. Lots and lots of socks. Piece by piece, I folded, sorted, and stacked. Each item held a flood of memories. He wore that sweatshirt last Christmas. That flannel was a favorite when he went camping. The faded 49er cap was a staple in his wardrobe. The eclectic collection of t-shirts came from all sorts of places and events. Some were gifts, others souvenirs from trips we’d taken, bands he liked, a couple from Chico State. I moved on to long-sleeved shirts. I never realized how much he liked plaid. He especially liked soft things. From the time he was little, he was drawn to soft fabrics. His grandma loves to tell the story of how she took him shopping at the fabric store to pick up material to make him some pajamas. He walked around touching each and every option until he found the softe

The day was going along fine, good in fact. It was a perfect mix of productivity and fun. We stopped by the Kaiser clinic to get our flu shots, then hit the library nearby. I found a book I’ve been wanting to read (score!), plus I grabbed a handful of books for Con Bon. After the library, we stopped by a neighborhood park so the toddler could expend spend of his boundless energy. Grandma even went down the slide, too. Such fun! A bit later, we pulled into our driveway at home.   I went to get Connor out of his car seat, and that’s when I noticed something was missing. “Where is my purse? Oh crud! I left it somewhere! “ Immediately, I went into panic mode. “Dear God, please help me find that purse! I beg you!” We hightailed it back to the library while I dialed their number. The librarian re-traced my steps: children’s section, check-out counter, exit. Nope. Nada. I left my name and number – just in case. Still, we cruised by the parking lot to check if perhaps it fell o