Ruby and I walked to school yesterday. It was too incredibly November-y to pass up. Fog lingered in the trees. The sky wore a hairnet of clouds, yet yielded no rain. Everywhere, everything was damp. Fallen leaves lay prostrate on sidewalks and in puddles. Squirrels raced around us, frantic to add to their food stores.
Ruby and I trudged along. We stopped at the store to pick up more canned pumpkin for pies. They stocked it in the baking aisle. I found out after I asked a helpful clerk. Shouldn’t it be with the canned vegetables? It is a vegetable, right? I hope my perspective isn’t off on that.
After the store, we crossed the street and continued on to school. A U-haul van’s back stood open in front of an old Victorian. Otherwise, the side street was empty.
“I bet I could fit in there!” Ruby announced. She pointed at the truck’s open back.
“You sure could. And probably your friends could, too.”
I examined the vehicle. It was a smaller truck. Kind of a one-room apartment mover. Someone once told me that every time you move, you have twice as much stuff. True story.
“Yeah, Jasmine and I could fit in there.”
Still on the truck.
“Rebekah and Joy, too,” I replied. Why not include your inner circle while riding in the metal box?
“And Evan, Liannon, Lily, Ruby #1, Alyssa, Evan, Millie and Andrew, too.”
I hadn’t thought about some of those kids in a while. Their moms decided our religion didn’t mix with theirs. Methinks this because the gang hasn’t been over to play since we handed them an invite to our church’s Fall Fest earlier this month. Or it could be that suddenly things got busy. Happens a lot.
I’m not offended. I hope the moms aren’t, either. They’re all welcome whenever they want to come over, should that happen. Who knows? People get reacquainted all the time with God’s serendipity. See, in Ruby’s mind and heart, they never really left. The welcome remains.