Cherubic Perspective

I stared at the angel made of stone; a cherub with the body of a naked two year old. It sat out in the wind, rain, sleet, snow, and sun never complaining. To the angel, time was inconsequential.

It made me think about how small I was. I was nothing but a worker ant to the cherub, busying myself until the day my body failed me. What difference did it make if I made it to work on time, or filed my paperwork correctly?

My mother and I hadn’t spoken since my Uncle’s wedding when she reminded me that I’d wasted my potential by going to community college and taking an Associate’s degree. She’d sent me a card that said, “Come have some lemonade on my new porch!” I had thrown it away.

The big picture was that I needed to be a good friend, parent, and daughter because memories would last longer than a tedious job. I opened the car door.

Smiling, I climbed the stairs to the porch and knocked on my Mother’s door. “I just thought I’d take you up on that offer of lemonade.”

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