My earlier post, at the time it was written, was so random. I even titled it “I have no Idea Where This Came From”…

A letter from the ex, a memory of my mother, an example of how I should be… it was just so completely out there…

For me. And maybe for you.

But not for my God.

Oh no. He had a plan, a purpose for that email that was written over six years ago…. a plan that I would find it… Monday… because that’s when I wrote that post… on Monday.

He needed me to see that email. He needed me to remember that time of my life, the sadness, the hurt, the pain and how my mother came to my side because I needed all of that to be armed for Tuesday.

Tuesday. The day that my daughter found out that her big sister (from the Big Brother Big Sisters Program) is moving. The day that my daughter felt the pain. The day that my daughter needed me… just to be there. To hold her. To offer her tissues and tell her that everything was going to be okay.

She found out after our game… in which we lost and to some very snobby, stuck up coaches who thought the game was a sure thing. We gave them a run for their money. They weren’t so smug toward the end.

She was quiet when she got in the car. She didn’t say much at all. The car was somber. Even though I knew what had just happened, no one else did. And she didn’t know that I knew.

And then, faintly over the sound of the radio, I heard her fight back the tears. I peeked back there and saw her trying to wipe them away so that no one would know.

This is when I knew something was wrong. Because Samara is a top notch drama queen. Real tears are quiet. These were real tears… tears she didn’t want to show because that would admit true hurt.

She’s more like me than I thought.

My immediate thought was “let’s go get ice cream” because ice cream fixes everything. Even she wasn’t excited. Not even when she found the new flavor “playdoh”… but she ate it… quietly.

When we arrived home, I shouted for them to get their crap out of my car. Quietly, she did as I asked and then came inside.

As I stepped through the door of the house, I felt it… I felt Him speaking to me saying… “You know what you have to do for her.”

And I did.

We cuddled on the couch to watch American Idol. She laid her head in my lap and was still… so unusal for her. I rubbed her hair and handed her tissues as needed.

Occasionally, she would ask who I wanted to win… claiming herself as a member of the Archie camp. She had my cell phone poised and ready to go. Quietly. Respectfully.

I expected the events of my memory to happen a few years from now. I expected it to be over a boy.

And now?

She’s tucked away in my bed. Sleeping peacefully and for the time being, not aware of the sadness that she faces in losing her big sister.

And I feel horrible that I gave her David Cook’s text in number when she asked for Archie’s.

Until next time…

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