Sharing this today from one of my oldest friends, a fellow-mom and poet and frequent commenter here, Karin Fairbanks Crawford. She’s picked up the pen again recently, and I wanted to share: two poems and a story. Enjoy!
Deep night
The Guardian
So, the story. Wednesday, I am wandering in the mall and I go into a make-up store to buy blush to make me (ha) look young again. And while I’m there the man helping me is telling me about taking care of my skin. I suspect he is trying to sell me more stuff, so I try to avoid this. But he insists on putting on at least this lip treatment to help my chapped lips. Ok, Ok. I get out of there fast. But as I continue shopping, I realize my lips feel great. Really great. It tastes yummy, and when I look in the mirror in the dressing room, I see that they look great too. Nice and flush pink and not a bit dry or chapped, and not sticky or gummy. So I go back and I tell the guy I want whatever he put on them! As he is ringing me up, he tells me he’s happy he could make me feel better and that he likes to take care of people. He says he is always urging his kids and friends to take care of themselves and making them moisturize, etc. I laugh and tell him I’m a mom, and who takes care of moms? Ha. He looks at me square and says “I guess I do.” Would it seem weird to say that right then I felt as if God were saying it? I guess if I’m too dense to get it, He has to find new ways, even if that means speaking to me through a make-up salesman!