A message from… well, you have to read it

My friend Angie has dealt with a lot in her life. And she’s always done it with grace and style. And she hasn’t become jaded — when yet another sad thing happens to yet another person she loves, she’s still able to cry.

Well, back in 1996 and 1997, she and her husband, Tony, were splitting their marriage between two cities — she was in Santa Maria, where they owned a house, and he was in San Jose, where the work was (he’s in the pipe fitter’s union). So, in mid-1997, when Angie was pregnant with Ryan (who is now 9), she moved to San Jose into the trailer they had bought for Tony to live in. It was a cost-effective way for him to live near a job that may or may not be permanent. Angie was OK with it. But she was sad about the idea of bringing their first child home to a trailer — with no nursery.

Samp6c8653eb39e8f551Now, Angie likes things the way she likes them, plain and simple. No frou-frou things around. And she only buys white paper towels. (Don’t worry, I’m going somewhere with this.)

So, one day Angie got home from Target and was putting away everything, including a couple of rolls of paper towels. She pulled a white one out of the bag. Then she pulled a printed one out of the bag.

Holy GOD!

Well, she looked closer and saw with horror that there were hearts on it. She was contemplating dragging her pregnant self back to Target when she noticed something else: “Home is Where The Heart Is” was written all over it as well.

Leave it to a roll of paper towels to put everything in perspective!

They didn’t stay in the trailer for long, but that little revelation made the rest of the stay bearable.

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