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The Jackpot

In the same minute I married my husband, I became someone’s daughter-in-law.  And she my mother-in-law.  And though I didn’t know it at the time, it was as if I’d won the jackpot. 

It was the kind of winning that would reveal itself in family dinners, in casual phone conversations about kid milestones or cars that worked or didn’t or pets we thought we lost; in home sewn curtains; in rooms carefully painted for my son and daughter; in an organized recipe book lest we starve that first year of marriage; in emotional trips to the hospital when post partum had me in its grip; in quick runs to our house to advise the location of a piece of furniture or the color the wall should be painted. In anything, really.  And because words seem of no help now, I’ll trust she knows how invaluable she is.  How grateful I am to have her in my life.  All that…and more.

Last night we squeaked out a fairly weak rendition of the ‘happy birthday’ song. 

 Not that my mother-in-law minded.  Her four grandkids were singing to her.  And I suppose there’s no greater melody than that.  But because it was her birthday and because it’s not now, I just want her to know how much she’s loved.  By me.

I won the jackpot.

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