Friday, January 6, 2012

Handkerchief

Robb carried a handkerchief in his pocket.  He rarely needed it; it was largely for me.  He married a teary girl.

When I needed it, in church or in a movie, he had one handy for me.  I needed one recently.  (Tears are fresh and plentiful these days.)  I couldn't find it.  I groped blindly in my handbag, wishing upon wishes for something to dry these streams of mascara.

And then something prompted my mind to travel down a linear path:

I took it out of my purse when we traveled to Ohio,
I wanted it with me on the plane,
I put it in my red bag,
my computer is in my red bag,
my red bag is sitting at my feet in this coffee shop. 

I reached into the big pocket of the red bag.  Sure enough: the familiar, worn linen of his handkerchief, monogrammed in the bottom right corner.

It was as if he had handed it to me once more.

"Thanks, honey," I whispered, seemingly to myself, but not to myself really at all.

2 comments:

Stace said...

I've been following your blog since month 4. Today, I'm on Day 1. Day 1 of a life I never wanted and all I can think is, "If Tricia can do it, I can do it, too." I've never met you but God is using you as my lifeline today. I needed to tell you.

Tricia said...

Dear Stace, my heart aches for you, new friend. I would be honored to hear more of your story, and I am praying for you on this day. May strength and courage be yours.

Please write to me. tricianw@gmail.com.