Milk

He works at "Quick Shop", a young rugged kind of handsome. The forearms show tattoo's of a dark color with some kind of writing on them - try as I might I haven't figured out what they say. Wearing jeans and t-shirts he appears to be nervous, but trying hard to be kind person. Smile slightly to the side and eyes that can't look at you.
Tonight I am there, at 10:00 to get milk, we have been out for 2 days and I just can't face another morning with the disappointment of no milk for their cereal. He is standing outside by a maroon grand-am, smoking a cigarette. Inside the car I see a girl, and she is so sad - or is it mad? I wonder as I get out of my car and pray for them. I wonder what kind of bitterness has already been stirred up in her heart. Two kids in the back, both in car seats - one is screaming...
he opens the door to give the baby a little comfort as she sits behind the wheel puffing the heck out of a cigarette...
he needs to get back in to check-out the milk and the other people who have driven up after me to make purchases...
as I leave with my milk, i try to make eye contact with her, her head is bowed at the wheel, car running, babies screaming
and she doesn't see me smile at her
she doesn't know that I have just asked Jesus to comfort her where she is -
to show her that she is loved and it will all be okay...
to see the good in her husband even when she can't see it...
to love him so that he can love her back -
most of all
for the children...
I start up my car and I realize why I had forgotten milk until this moment.