My mom loves HomeGoods, and at least every other weekend she has the urge to visit. She rarely buys anything, but she just likes to walk around, looking for inspiration and admiring the pieces. Today, we went to HomeGoods, and a woman turned to us to ask us if we thought a particular piece would be appropriate for a nine-year-old girl. It was a box whose outside featured butterflies. We said yes, especially since the little girl in question loves butterflies. The woman proceeded to tell us about how she is giving this little girl, her granddaughter, her first real tea set for her birthday, but how the girl’s mother does not allow her to see the woman because the girl’s mother personally does not like this well-meaning woman. I sympathized with this woman, especially since my grandmother went through a similar experience with her first grandchild, the oldest of my first cousins.
The woman pointed her finger at me and told me, “Cherish everything she gives you,” referring to my mom. My mom smiled, reassuring her that I do. The thing is, my mom gives me so much that I can not ever truly cherish everything she has given me and continues to give me. So every day when I say goodnight to her I tell her, “Thank you for everything.” And I mean it.