I needed to stretch my legs halfway between there and here, so when I saw the sign PUBLIX, I followed the arrow.
I wandered up and down, much as I would in any foreign territory: curious, just seeing what there was to see.
Until this came into view!
I felt almost as elated as I had been the night before on watching two great-nieces dance in The Nutcracker.
It's the little things.
Always.
My Birmingham great-nieces have grown up in one car -- their mother's Suburu, which is now my Suburu. When I drove away in the car last week, they were a bit teary, surprisingly sad to see it go.
What they don't know is why I love the car: it smells like them and their mother. I'm not sure how long the scent will linger, but for now I am reminded that not all the angels live in Sewanee.
