Grateful

Two stories, loosely related:

1.)

Generally speaking, I don’t like tattoos. I’ve seen so many tattoos that scream “mistake! You will hate this in five years!”

But the other day I noticed that a girl in my class has a tattoo of which I actually approve. In fact, I can’t stop admiring it. It’s “grateful” spelled out in graceful, looping cursive, and it’s on the inside of her wrist.

I think it would be lovely to have a continual reminder to count your blessings.

2.)

This morning, I rushed out the door in my yellow wedges and mincingly ran to the train. At the last moment, the train sitting at the stop pulled away and I was left waiting on the platform. Suddenly I realized I had forgotten my travel mug of coffee. Given my state of sleep deprivation, that didn’t bode well for the class I was about to teach.

I phoned Graham–who was still at home and in his pajamas–thinking that in all likelihood he wouldn’t answer. But he did pick up, and assured me in his sleepy voice that he would try to bring me the coffee.

A few minutes later, with no Graham in sight, the next train pulled up and I boarded, with a sad sigh that I would have to forego coffee and that Graham would likely have left the house for nothing.

Then I saw it–Graham streaking down the hill toward the train, mug in hand. As he got closer, and I saw his rumpled hair, tired face, and his earnest look, I just melted. Just before he got to the train, the conductor rang the bell and we took off. I gave Graham a little wave, and the train pulled past him. The coffee handoff was unsuccessful, but I still felt happy.

How lucky am I to have someone who tries his hardest to give me what I need? Even if it’s just coffee.

~ by releasethebadgers on April 23, 2010.