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Giving Grace

At 10:00 p.m. the giggling hadn’t even reached its climax.

I hollered from the kitchen for both kids to come down.


Which they did…My son already blubbering an excuse and moving into meltdown.

My daughter’s eyes, enlarged like an owl’s, searched for safety in my face.  She crept cautiously behind her brother, her hand brushing the wall.

When my son was close enough,  I turned from the counter and lowered a plate of cantaloupe into his uncertain hands.

“For me?” he asked.  His voice was half squeak.

“For you, son,” I said.  And I watched as he uncurled his shoulders and carried his prize to the table.

My daughter moved silently to my side–hope rising.

I held out the gift.  “For you, honey.”

Her eyes flitted from mine and back to the cantaloupe.  Then she backed away, her smile unable to stretch any further.

As my son wrestled his last bite from fork to mouth, I leaned in close.  “How was it?” I whispered.

His sticky lips exhaled.  “I thought,” he said.  “I thought I was going to have to sit on the stairs.”


One Response to “Giving Grace”

  1. The Man says:

    I loved witnessing the fear turn to wonder on this occasion.

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