Mornings

It is unusually cold this morning, a crisp coolness under a sunny sky.

We were plodding methodically through our morning routine.

Coax daughter to wake up.

Call upstairs again. And again. And again.

Toast the bread, make lunch, pack a snack, check the backpack.

Listen to daughter's footsteps up the stairs, the sound of a spin toothbrush, the slide of the dresser drawers, searching for socks.

We were off.

On the way, we chatted about the cool weather "in April?" We listened as our favorite Christian radio hosts joked with each other and played inspiring music.

I drove the usual route to school, red lights, school buses, traffic.

Five minutes until the bell.

I pulled up to the building and parked instead of going through car line. We both got out, gathered her things, and I wished her a "Wonderful day."

She ran off, and as her hair bounced over the top of her pink backpack, I thought to myself, "Oh. I forgot to kiss her good-bye."

Then she paused, turned around, looked back at me and blew me a kiss.

I blew one back and smiled.

Good. Morning.