Ballerina in the Backseat.

Dear ballerina in the backseat,

Today I rode the bus to the grocery store to surprise my husband with food in our pantry and dinner on the table. He thought I was in class, but it got canceled today. I ended up with more groceries than I could handle and was struggling to get home on foot. With welts swelling on my arms from such a heavy load, I waited at the crosswalk for a long time. The little green man didn't show up to let me pass. I must have looked tired and pathetic. Your mom pulled up on the curb and asked me if I needed a ride somewhere. Hesitantly, I looked around and wondered if I should get in a stranger's car. When I saw you in the backseat, I agreed. Your mom helped me load all my groceries in the front seat and I got in the back with you. You didn't say much and I could tell you thought it was a little weird that your mom picked up some strange girl on the street. I asked you if you were a dancer because you had on a leotard and tights. Your mom said you were coming home from practice. You said you were a ballerina. I smiled. I told your mom where to turn to get to my apartment. Your mom said life gets a little easier, you told me to have a nice night, I got out of your car and walked up to my apartment with all my groceries. Your mom didn't have to stop for me. But she did. And I hope that when you grow up... you'll be like your mom- kind and selfless, charitable to strangers, not bothered by the dents in your car or the fact that your clothes are worn and your hair needs cutting, Christ-like, sincere, and aware of people more than time. In fact, I hope that when I grow up... I'm like your mom too.

Love,

the lonely girl on the street corner.