It's a Toss Up

A little girl came into the yoga store yesterday with her mom and sisters, and, when she thought nobody was looking, she went to a pile of purple tee shirts and methodically tossed each one on the floor.

Her secret would have been safe with me, but her older sister saw as well, and immediately reported the incident to mom. I gathered up the pile quickly, hoping mom wouldn't get the full picture of the little bit of chaos her daughter had created, and, when she appeared mortified, I assured her it was no big deal. After all, it's not as if she tried boxing with a headless mannequin, as a little boy had the other day.

Frankly, I admired the little girl. Wouldn't we all like to take piles of extraneous bullshit and dismantle them, diffuse them so they no longer affect us? I'd give anything for a little purple tee shirt toss, especially if I could walk away and let someone else clean up the mess. For a change.

I was tired last night, after a day in retail, a trip to the airport, and way too many emails from my attorney keeping me apprised of ongoing and upcoming events in the never ending divorce nightmare. My house looked as if it had withstood a tee shirt toss on a grand scale. My older daughter was visiting with her two friends from Italy; my younger daughter was battling a bit of the flu, going from couch to couch and leaving trails of socks and shoes and blankets in her wake. My son had come in from New York a few days early, making me wonder where my house guests were going to sleep.

For dinner, we picked up deep dish pizza, which I referred to as dough with tomato sauce, cheese, pepperoni and peppers on top, because there's no way you could pass this stuff off to two guys from Rome as pizza. Everybody pitched in, not wanting me to have to deal with the sudden onslaught of people and things on my own. But I really didn't mind the chaos. It was a welcome mess, allowing me, for the moment, to toss the extraneous purple tee shirts out of my mind and enjoy the simple, unexpected pleasure of food, wine, and youthful energy.

The little girl left the store in her mom's arms, and we winked at each other. Her mom was smiling and pleasant (and overly apologetic), this woman with two beautiful, healthy daughters and one beautiful daughter who sat motionless and lost in her own unexpressed thoughts, confined to a wheel chair with what I assume is some congenital and incurable disease. I can't get this young mom out of my head. Talk about someone who has had to learn how to sift through piles of shit, figure out what can be tossed and what's important.

She's already taught her little one some valuable lessons.