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A Little Help From Above

Already five minutes had passed since both kids had swerved through the laundry room in socks to the garage, with hands willing to chip away at the freezer frost to find the ice cream sandwiches that Husband had said couldn’t be found.

At least when he looked.

Husband and I talked across the table in low tones. The kitchen hung silent, and the dishwasher tiptoed through its cycle. There was the sound of nothing. Of precious nothing.

Until one of us mentioned the kids.

At which time we narrowed our eyes at each other, both wondering, were they still in the garage?

Only they weren’t. Because they were bursting back through the laundry room, voices dancing, and red fingers wrapped around a dented box.

“We found them!” our boy shouted. And the four of us stared at the bent box with three limp sandwiches. It’d been rough out there in the freezer.

“But we didn’t find them right away,” our girl admitted.

“Nope,” our boy agreed. He blew on his pink hands.”We closed the freezer and prayed. And that’s…” Her voiced joined his. “And that’s when we found them.”

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