I’m feeling the squeeze of getting senior portraits tidied up and readied for the yearbook. My son sits with me studying the parts of the flower for a test in the morning. Fidgeting, he asks when in his adult life, the parts of the flower could ever matter. I sit wondering the same thing as I size one photo after another. At the moment, he feels my stress and I understand his. He say’s goodnight only to return a few minutes later with a hot chocolate and a chocolate chip cookie. He plants a kiss on my cheek and says, “Stressed is dessert spelled backwards”. In an instant, my stress is gone knowing that today’s ordinary miracle just delivered the sweetest goodnight.
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