Labor of Love

It's Saturday morning and I'm mad as hell at myself: I forgot to buy milk. The smell of strong Cafe Verona fills the kitchen, perhaps the house, but without milk... the best part... coffee is just... bitter and hard.

But really this anger is a distraction. My real emotions cannot be described as I plan my day. MR and I are taking our daughters plus ES's daughter shopping. Most of the time I love the thought of bringing my daughter to look for dresses. These dresses, however, are not for a party. Not for a bat mizvah, sweet sixteen, wedding, confirmation... nothing like that. These dresses should be black, tasteful and "appropriate". In our impossible feat of trying to help ES's family get through this tragedy, we are taking their daughter and ours to buy her dress. I can't even write what it is for - how do you take a 12 year old girl to buy a this dress? BTW ES is still with us, but the family is very well organized and this is a "practical favor" for them so they aren't rushing later. Hopefully together with her friends, it won't be as awful for poor LS. It also reiterates that her friends are there for her!

I remember looking desperately for a dress for my own mother's funeral. Like our girls I needed shoes too. It was so hot - in the 90s and very humid. I had nothing appropriate in my suitcase. I was still heavy from having had a baby and I felt flabby from nursing. The dress I bought was the opposite of how I felt: it was light and airy, and I've worn it again, because my Mom was very practical and would have wanted it that way.

On Sunday when I wrote a list of things I was going to try to do for others this week, I wasn't even thinking about this. And now I realized it's the most important thing we'll do this week. LS and our daughters will remember this forever. I'm not about to forget it either. Note to self: don't yell at the girls today!

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