Thoughtfulness

Dinner in 5 — she texted to the family chat. The plate felt warm as she placed the steak next to the beans and potato — nothing was touching. The oven door squeaked as she felt her back tighten. She felt her wrist as the chicken tenders and fries slid off the pan onto a plate. Her cheeks felt tight as she double-checked the tacos for cheese.

“Thanks, mom!” Her son was already taking a bite of the potato, “No touchies!”

“Of course.” She felt a hand on her hip.

“Thanks, babe.” She took a bite of salad and started to clean the kitchen while her family ate. She was tired but happy.

The coffee cup was warm as she placed it in the cup holder. Her shoe slipped off the brake pedal as her car crawled forward. She liked the days when she didn’t have to wait too long in the drive-thru. Sandwiches — she thought as she remembered a morning last week when the van ordered breakfast, when anyone thoughtful should just get coffee in the drive-thru.

She felt fabric as she moved the visor down and turned onto the eastbound highway. 73 she thought as she set her cruise control and moved to the left lane. She barely heard the music as she considered her workday ahead. She liked having 20 minutes to go from home to work mode. A car passed her on the right, followed by two more. She didn’t really notice them. It was nice to have a clear road in front of her; she hoped no one thoughtlessly got in a wreck near exit 5 — for some reason, that section was notorious for accidents, she wondered why.

She saw the one-mile warning for her exit and moved over. 12 cars went zooming by in the left lane. Such a hurry — she thought as she exited. The office was another minute drive. Carl better not have taken her parking spot. She hoped Johnny would like his packed lunch and the note she sent with it.