Jennifer Mobley Thompson

I couldn’t even get mad at people who said, “There’s nothing to eat,” because, well, there was nothing to eat. Camera people need groceries, too, so I didn’t think too much about it. I abruptly stop the cart  and tip it so all the groceries land in the car at one time. I’m not going to say my tires squealed as I drove out of the lot, but I’m not going to say they didn’t, either.

We all went to the same school, but I didn’t know Todd until we’d both graduated and, in fact, met him at Ed’s house. Todd and I set out from our hotel to meet up with Ed’s family at Boston Commons But better than the Freedom Trail was catching up with Ed and getting to know Andi and the kids. We weren’t able to complete the trail because we had to get back to the hotels and then turn around for the Red Sox game, but we managed a good portion of it.

Yesterday as I was picking up the living room (which is code for I was sitting in the comfy chair, playing a game on my phone and strategizing the pick up in my head), Todd came in from the garage, holding a ginormous wad of paper towels around his hand and said, “I may need you to take me to Urgent Care. The nurse at Urgent care asked to see the wound so Todd pulled the paper towels back for her. This time instead of a pool of blood it was a stream of blood. When we got home, Todd wanted to make sure he didn’t get blood on his beloved table saw.

With all the first day of school pictures posted today, I can’t help but feel a little nostalgic. This is the first time in 22 years I haven’t had a child starting school somewhere. He awakened each of my senses, revealing himself to me as I sat on the deck: The beautiful blue sky dotted with wispy white clouds glimpsed behind the trees. And when I start to feel melancholy over days gone by, I’m going to find my joy in the presence of God, thankful that he shows up in every beautiful sight, every comforting feel, every delightful sound, every refreshing smell and every exquisite taste that points me to him.