Notes from public school - day 105

small things are big things

One of the infinite and immeasurable things my mom taught me is that small things are big things.

I try to remember that in the simple, plain, ordinary moments of each and every day.

Here are two small things that were big things that she did for me.

“I want to make your birthday cake for you,” said Mom. “What kind of cake would you like?” 

“I’d like a Furman cake,” I said with a twinkle in my eye, thinking it was an impossibility to make a purple cake. 

On my birthday, she opened the cake holder and a purple Furman cake was there. 

At that moment, I knew my mom was a super hero.

I was born on Friday the 13th. 

“I’m like a black cat on the street or a ladder in the way or a broken mirror in front of you,” I told mom one day. “Bad luck.”

“Nope,” she said, “Your birth was the luckiest of days for your dad and me. You changed Friday the 13th from an unlucky day to a lucky day. You’re a lucky rabbits foot for the world.”

Because of these small things, I’ve always felt like I am something good to the world, like I have something important to do in it.