Pickles and Screws

My mom called me when I was at work the other day.

"I'm at the store," she said, "And I'm buying some pickles for Dad and just wanted to know if you needed any."

She knows that this store (that I rarely go to) sells my favorite pickles.

I told her I was all stocked up on pickles but thanks.

Last night I went over at her request to pick up a plate of leftovers, and she presented me with a scarf she'd bought on sale that she knew I would like. It is a very cute and warm scarf.

When I got home from Target the other night, my car's headlights fell upon my dad, who was bent over in my carport looking for something on the ground with a flashlight. Upon my questioning what he was doing, he explained that he came over to change my outdoor lights and had dropped a screw. He was afraid I would get a flat tire if I rolled over it with my car when I got home.

Love is your mom fixing you a plate of leftovers, buying you a scarf, calling you to see if you need pickles.

Love is your dad in his sweatsuit in the cold with a flashlight, searching for fallen screws, standing on ladders, changing burned-out bulbs, letting there be light.