Most people don’t notice the math happening behind my face.
She wrapped both arms around my neck when I leaned down to say goodbye. “Don’t be too tired today, okay?”
“I’ll do my best, sweetheart,” I replied, brushing her nose gently.
Mom handed me my coffee. “Come straight home after the café shift.”
“I still have the office building tonight, Mom,” I said. “I’ll try.”
Mom sighed. “Then come home long enough to change.”
That was my mother all over. She couldn’t fix the whole burden, so she went after the corners of it.
By one in the afternoon, the café had tipped from steady to packed. I stayed planted at the register, one palm resting against the counter every few seconds. It was my invisible anchor point.
“I’ll do my best, sweetheart.”
The man in front of me smiled. “You all are slammed.”
“We are, but we’ll get you through,” I said.
He tipped a little extra and said, “You’re doing great.”
Those words made me smile. I wish people knew what such kind words can do to a person on the edge of exhaustion.
Then the front door opened, and the whole air of the room shifted before she even reached the line. The woman wore a cream coat, sharp heels, and hair so perfectly arranged it looked untouched by the day. Instead of joining the end of the line, she walked straight to the front and planted both hands on the counter.
I wish people knew what such kind words can do to a person on the edge of exhaustion.
