It is Truly All About the Little Things
After nearly a year of legal fights; trying desperately to stay out of the court system, and endless amounts of anxiety I woke up one morning to hear the words “they signed” from my attorney and instead of going to my 9am court hearing, it could all be done…IF I could get to downtown Minneapolis to my attorney’s office before 8:45am. I wanted to scream, seriously this has to be this last minute they couldn’t have signed three days ago when I begged! I took a deep breath and looked at my son sitting in his carseat as I made my way to his pre-school for drop off and knew I couldn’t make it to pre-school and back to downtown in time to sign the document. Scared, but determined, I turned my car around and we headed straight into the belly of the beast. I maneuvered through traffic to the parking ramp and rushed with my 3.5 year-old son in my arms up to the lobby. That’s when it happened…everything fell apart.
My attorney had moved, but I had forgot. I called, got the new address, plugged it in my phone and rushed out the doors using the Google Walk app to get my son and I there. There was still time, it was tight, but doable. Four blocks later I realize that dear old Google has officially led me astray and I am now four blocks in the wrong direction. I take a deep breath and scoop my son into my arms and start running in four-inch heels in the other direction.
Sweat dripping down my face, shirt thoroughly pitted out, and the sweetest 3.5 year-old boy you’ve ever met in my arms. My muscles ache and scream, my foot I’m certain is bleeding…just one more block.
I’m trying to get to 920. I see 910 and 940. There is no 920. At this point I am a hot-mess, holding a toddler, sweating everywhere and I burst into tears. I only have seven minutes to sign this document or I need to be on the other side of town. My heart is pounding and people are walking by staring at my son and I. My son reaches up and holds my cheeks with his small hands and presses his forehead against mine.
“It’s okay mama.” He says. “I love you.”
“I love you too baby.” I sob.
I sob harder and squeeze him tight. He is all that matters in the great big world, and in a moment when I should be reassuring him…he instead comforts me. A man stops and asks if he can help us. I explain where I’m trying to get. He explains that I enter 910, go through their lobby, up an escalator, and through another lobby to a bank of elevators and then magically I’m in the 920. I thank him and run, my son in my arms, tears and sweat on my face, blood in my shoe and we make it just in time. The woman helping me doesn’t ask why I look broken and crazy, instead she gives us water and says not to worry. With that my nightmare is over and the documents signed and submitted. I am divorced.
But where did I leave the car?
It doesn’t matter. I take my son’s hand and say, “lets find a donut.”
He smiles and we leave walking slowly taking in the sunshine on that September day. Knowing that he and I made it. Together. We wander the streets until we find the donut shop and he picks one out with sprinkles. I pay for it with literally the last $2.25 I have and we walk hand in hand talking about life and happy things until we at last do find where I left the car. He single handedly made the worst day, the best day. His tiny gesture was all I needed to reshape the world, help from a stranger and kindness from a woman just doing a job. That’s how we survived.
I am so thankful for my son. He’s brilliant and kind and sweet and funny. He is so much wiser than his years.