She ordered a single cream puff - a particular cream puff, the one in the back of the case - on a larger plate, please, not that tiny plate. The cream will get on the table if I cut into the cream puff on that tiny plate. No, I don't have a membership card. No, I don't want coffee...
I know what you're thinking, because I know what I was thinking until the moment she turned to me and said that she rarely even eats cream puffs, but today - today she really needed one.
"Sometimes you need a cream puff," I agreed.
Then she told me that her father had just died. Her mother was in a rehab facility, and would now have to come live with her. "My life just changed completely," she said. Her house was full of casseroles and other well-meaning food from well-meaning people, but her house was also full of those people -- and what she really needed was a bit of space and peace and one cream puff.
I'm glad she knew that one simple thing , and I'm glad I let her go ahead of me. It was a simple enough mitzvah. Most mitzvahs are.
Just because I love it so, here's another view of my spun-up Abby Batt on a niddy-noddy.
And -- If you don't regularly visit Sandi Wiseheart's blog, Wiseheart knits, visit today. She has learned to admire the way the snow makes wigs for the bare trees, and has a photo of a snow angel that her dog made. You will smile. Promise.