I don’t know her age because I don’t think a number represents her well. It’s been well over a year now that she befriended me and I can’t quite remember why she did in the first place. But I am grateful that at one point she slipped her well-worn hand in mine and whispered into my ear, “Come over to my home. Drink coffee with me and let me listen to your story of young toddlers, fresh dreams and deep burdens.”
And so I did.
And so I still do.
The first time I stepped into her home, she was warming my coffee mug in the microwave. I have never once had someone care so deeply, nor take the time to care about the warmth of my coffee mug, but she did. She shared her secret with me of pouring water into a mug, heating it up only to dispose of it, so that my mug would be warm to the touch. It’s hard to explain why I felt so loved by this act, but I did.
It’s as if that small action showed a new level of caring. It said, “I’ve been expecting you and I have been waiting in great anticipation for you.”
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