It's raining felines and canines. Or, as Princess put it, it's raining "like Hashem put on these huge boots and is stomping around in the sky! And also He gave some boots to Zeidy and Sabba, because they're in shamayim with Him, and they're all stomping around!" Then she let out a laugh of pure delight at the visual she created for herself.
So, it's definitely raining. Which I am glad for! We need rain! But also, Coco-pop is sick, and when I bundled her up to take Princess to gan, I tasted all different flavors of guilty. We set off on the 15 minute walk, Coco-pop in the stroller, wrapped like a tortilla, Princess walking proudly in her flower raincoat directly behind the stroller, and me, behind her, regretting my decision not to buy boots (waste of money! And honestly, where can I keep 'em? said I when opportunity knocked.) and pushing the stroller while balancing an umbrella over all three of us.
We got there, more or less soaking wet.
Then, the villain of the story strolls in. Or rather, rolls in. As in, in a car.
Let me set the scene for y'all.
Us three, soaking wet, my hand burning from holding the umbrella in position while pushing the stroller at the same time.
Her, in shaitel and makeup and white coat with fur collar and cuffs, emerging dry from her car to open the door for her equally dry child.
Our girls run in together,giggling as they splash all the puddles on the way to the front door of the gan.
Meanwhile, she returns to her car, and rolls down the window. A ride home? My heart leaps up as if I had beheld a rainbow in the sky. I walk towards her, smiling, but vague, just in case it's a false alarm.
"What do you think of this weather?" she asks.
Um. "Wet?" I ventured.
"I think it's so refreshing!" she smiles.
And all I could think of all the way home was that we could not afford fruit last year, and every time I buy some, I feel grateful that I can. Doesn't she remember what it was like when she didn't have a car? My shoes were waterlogged, and so was my spirit.
I got home, put Coco-pop into warm clothing, gave her some milk and put her in for a nap. Then I attacked the house. I was up to sweeping when I realized that I knew what it was like to not afford fruit. But did I know what it was like to not be able to pay rent? No. Thank G-d we had that every month from what we earned. Did I think about people who couldn't scrape it together and had to beg their landlord to give them another day, another week to get it all?
Lady In White probably always had a car. She probably thought that the rain looked refreshing outside of her window, shared that with me, and then went on her way without another thought. Because not having a car--oh, she probably needs a ride!--was not a rounded out thought in her head.
So I forgave her. But for me--well, I think that we can do better than that.
I read today on aish.com about a couple who never forgot where they came from when they became really wealthy, and were constantly giving back.
We can and should overcome our blocks in our minds and souls, and feel for those who have less.
So don't worry, y'all. When Outdorsman and I become filthy stinkin' rich, I will totally not forget all the little people.