Page 43 of In a Word, Yes

“And what did old sourpuss Lou Grant have to say about thatpiece you were writing? The one about the bike deputy?” I ask while circling the shining white-tiled main aisle of Macy’s for what may be the third time.

Lucy lowers her voice to a rumble and snarls, “‘You buried the lede, Montgomery!’”

“Ha! I don’t even know what that means.”

While she explains, my mind scrambles for an example—something, anything, that recently took me outside my comfort zone. I’m compelled to match her glowing report with something of my own. Not in a competitive way, but in a mother-daughter bonding way. All I can come up with is the fact that I finally ordered new pajamas.

“Send us a copy?” I say.

“You guys can just read it online next week.”

“Oh, Dad and I would still like our own copy.” Goodness! Who feeds our kids the bum steer that their parents’ emotional investment in their highs and lows somehow ends the moment they become legal adults?

“Anyway, I don’t know exactly what God is up to, but it feels like I’m being shoved rather violently out of my comfort zone. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but today was a good day.”

“Well, he has certainly provided you with a long and necessary season of rest and recovery, sweetie. There’s no shame in that.”

“Safe to say, he’s decided I’m done resting. I think he’s leading me out. Oh, hey, by the way, about the lieutenant...”

My ears perk.

“This is going to sound random, but by any chance do you remember my seventh-grade spelling bee?”

“Of course. I still have your trophy somewhere.”

“You don’t!”

“Oh, I definitelydo.”

“Anyway, small world. Lieutenant Hayes was my competition. I mean, he’s not a boy now, of course. I mean, he went to Judson Middle School, and—”

“Get. Out! I know exactly who he is, honey. I was friends with his mom, Dora. In fact, for a while we kept in touch after they moved. Sweet woman. Shame I lost track of her.”

“I can tell you she lives somewhere near Charity Falls now.”

“Seriously? I would adore a chance to reconnect sometime.”

A question percolates, but I hate to risk the easy rapport we’re enjoying. Unfortunately, my mouth has a mind of its own. “Think you’ll go back to the writing group?”

“We’ll see.”

After a moment, I gently say, “May I ask what’s holding you back?”

“Well, for one thing, I need to work on mywhy.”

“You mean like, why go?”

“No, like why do I even want to write this book? Ian challenged us to get specific about who we’re writing to and why.”

“Ahh. This Ian fellow makes a good point.” It also seems within the realm of possibility that he and Lucy could be compatible.

Stop right there, mama bear.This is a listening moment. Unless of course, Lucy asks for advice. “Well,” I say, opening my mouth to tell my daughter how happy it would make me to see her socializing more often but then remembering that this isnot about me. Instead, I choose my next words carefully. “I’m proud of you for getting out more.”

“It’s not my fault that I like staying home, Mom. I’m an inside kitty.” Lucy’s tone is lighthearted, so I smile through the phone. “Anyway, what about you, Mom? Did your pink notebook ever turn up?”

Yes, hmm, whataboutme? Somehow, while aimlessly strolling this department store, I landed in front of the Sunglass Hut kiosk. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind owning a larger pair of shades if it means I could mosey through my errands more often without being recognized. Or dodge my daughter’s question.

Or my very recent life choices.