Catching Kisses: Sometimes life reads like a storybook

So before I get started I’d like to preface this one by saying it doesn’t matter what you or I believe; I mean that’s important, just not in the context of this story. Most of you know that for the most part I post my mood or personal goings-on, my musings on religion, politics, current events, etc. Sometimes it’s a sad commentary on ethics and morality. Sometimes it’s just a repost of something silly for your entertainment. Sometimes it’s just a poetic effort lest I explode. Today though, I’m going to share a chance encounter that I had with a charming 6 year old and his father, not because I want some sort of affirmation that I did a “good” thing, but because I hope it inspires at least one person that reads it to do something nice for someone else, that it makes even just one of you smile, and honestly, I was just so touched that I couldn’t keep it to myself. This, of course, implies that I will able to relay it with justice; I’m aware that sometimes my offerings are mediocre at best, but I think the source for content will out-weigh any literary short-comings. I implore you to read this post in its entirety.

Preface correction: I said it doesn’t matter what I believe for the context of this story…scratch that; there’s something that matters. I believe that everything happens for a reason. Now then, let’s go.

This weekend I took a little trip to the StL simply because I needed to get away and to relax a bit, to see some faces of the people that I rarely see but totally love, to pretend like I don’t have anything to worry about at work or elsewhere in life, to forget about drama with my family and the Studio, to just sit by a pool, read a book and enjoy the sunshine. I did all of that; it was nice, but do you ever have that feeling like your heart has been broken and no matter what you do you can’t quite get all of the pieces to put it back together in its rightful state? Yeah, even after my little respite I was still feeling quite forlorn, but then something amazing happened on my way home, and it changed my outlook.

The whole “not-driving” thing meant that I had to take the MO-X Shuttle to StL and back. You know how I said I believe things happen for a reason? Well, I had some plans change and decided to switch my return transportation time. If I hadn’t changed I would never have met Aric or Mark (the aforementioned 6 year old and his father). I needed to meet them, and I think they needed to meet me. As I stepped onto the shuttle I heard the driver mention that it would be a full trip so I scanned the open seats and weighed my options. There was one single seat open and a couple of empties next to other people, but I looked to the back where I saw the sweetest little face, complete with perfectly chubby cheeks, big blue eyes and curly brown hair. That face also had a pretty adorable pair of dangling legs, lightly kicking the seat. I decided that I definitely had to sit next to this little person. Someone else could sit with the grown-ups. I took my seat and exchanged smiles with this little boy and his papa. I then proceeded to read my book and text a bit with my girl, Nicole.

About an hour into the trip I notice the little boy next to me is crying. I looked at his dad and asked if he was okay. His dad said, “His mom, my wife, passed away about two months ago. We were taking her car to his aunt in St. Louis. He still cries a lot; it’s hard.”

In that moment I almost lost it myself, and then the kiddo spoke up. “She smells like mommy,” he said to his dad. Immediately I looked at his father and said, “Sorry, maybe it’s my body splash.” He replied, “Yeah, I noticed it when you sat down; it’s the same.” Again, things happen for a reason. I almost didn’t put my body splash on; it’s almost gone, and it’s been discontinued. As I was getting ready I wasn’t sure I wanted to waste any of my favorite splash on a ride home. I was feeling kind of blue and ugly that morning though so I went ahead and spritzed as usual. When I heard this little boy say that I smelled like his mommy, just after his dad told me she had passed away, my eyes welled with tears so big I don’t know how I stopped them, but I did and said to him, “Thank you. I think that you thinking I smell like your mommy is the nicest thing that anyone’s ever said to me. I bet she was a beautiful lady that smelled like cherry blossoms all of the time. Do you want to tell me your name?”

He said, “Aric with an ‘A’.” Ah so cute! I knew at this moment that we were going to be friends, and I said, “Well Aric with an ‘A’, I’m Karen with a ‘K’ which is way cooler than Karen with a ‘C’ sorta like Aric with an ‘A’ is way cooler than Aric with an ‘E’. Don’t you think?” He did, and I think he knew too, that we were going to get along. Because I think it’s important to talk to kids in a way that makes them feel respected and appreciated I proceeded to ask him his dad’s name. We chatted for a few moments as I was working up the nerve to ask his dad, Mark’s, permission to tell Aric a story.

You see, for some reason something my mom did when my sister and I were little popped into my head. When we were really young if she had to be apart from us for any extended time (a weekend at our grandparents, with our dad, etc.) she would kiss the palms of our hands and say, “If you get scared or miss me just put your hand to your cheek and know there are kisses for you there.” It’s silly, but it’s lovely and something that I do with my nieces and other little peeps that I love. I looked at Mark and said, “H-E-A-V-E-N, yay or nay?” He gave me the thumbs up so I said to a still teary-eyed Aric, “Can you blow kisses?” Obviously he responded with a yes so I asked him if he could show me by blowing a kiss to his dad. He did, and I, of course, offered much praise for his talent at blowing kisses. He smiled, pleased with himself, and then I said, “Aric, did you know that you can blow kisses to people in heaven too? You just toss them up instead of out.”

Aric looked at me rather quizzically, and then he looked at his dad. Mark nodded agreement. I continued, “It’s actually pretty awesome because they can blow kisses back. You know sometimes when you feel just the softest breeze, the kind that sort of tickles your cheek and just barely moves your hair?”

Aric answered, “Yep.” I said, “Well those are kisses from people in heaven, and they’re just grazing by you so that they can get to the person they’re supposed to go to. Sometimes they never get where they’re going because they catch too many other people on the way, but you know I think that’s okay too because maybe those people need the kisses more.” He leaned back into his seat, swinging those little legs again and was clearly storing this new-found information away. I think he was just old enough to get what I was saying but not so old that the story was implausible for him.

I then taught him how to play yellow car, and we did. I am so good at yellow car that I totally could have won if I wanted to, but I let him win. When we stepped off of the shuttle I held my breath as I knew what was coming. Sure enough, Aric tried it. He blew a kiss right up into the sky, and I kid you not, quite a good breeze hit us just as soon as he dropped his little hand back down. The look on his face is forever ingrained in my memory. His dad gave me the most heartfelt smile, and when Aric asked if we felt it we both said “what?”, knowing that would make it all the more special for him. Mark could have wanted to slap me for filling his son’s head with a story, but he shook my hand and said thank you when they left. Aric hugged me; it was soft and sweet, and he smelled good (you know that little kid smell that reminds of you of playing outside, just enough earth and sweat that you know the little one has played but doesn’t stink).

After they were gone, the elderly lady that had been sitting in front of us, touched my hand and said, “That was beautiful. May God bless all of your days.” It was so kind of her, but I didn’t know what to say in response so I just said, “Thank you! May he do the same for you.” When the cute, little old lady got into the car with her husband I saw her point at me. She’s passing my meeting on so why shouldn’t I?

The whole thing was quite surreal, but as the title said, sometimes life really does play out just like something from a storybook. Those storybook moments, whether delightfully fanciful or wistfully solemn, are often few and far between, but I am so very grateful for this one, any of them really because of the way that they stick with you. While my heart aches for that little boy, his papa, the rest of their family, I welcome what our chance meeting brought to me. It reminded me that no matter what you’re feeling, no matter what’s happening in your life; there is always someone whose sorrow is greater, their pain just that much worse. I’m certainly not an expert at anything, nor am I in a position to make remarks with such omniscient implications, but when have I ever been one to keep my thoughts to myself? So at the risk of delivering something so cliché or grandiose, I’d like to close with saying ultimately, even in the face of suffering, both great and small, even when it just isn’t what we expected or what we want in that moment, life is still something to be grateful for. We should try our best to appreciate every day and to just be good to each other.

Anyway, I respect the beauty that is in you, that is also within me…you know…namasté. Sending out kisses and wishing everyone many beautiful days!