There are angels, then there are angels, and right now I'm missing the ones I left behind in Utah.
When I drove out of the CHYC parking lot last Friday night, I realized with a sudden certainty that this was the last time I would walk across the green grass of the school's quad, the last time I would go through the double doors that were so tough to open with my arms full of snacks, clothes, and a double-tall latte for me. Flying across Great Salt lake, I realized it would also be the last time I would see the collection of absolutely wonderful individuals who have become like family.
The photo above shows Miss J, a beautiful soul who has cried with me, laughed with me, and high-fived every accomplishment my son has made in the last three years. She also is credited with asking Wolf, every single morning, "What kind of day are you going to make, today?" Every.Morning.
We've talked about Alaska, kids, ex-husbands, and new babies. I've listened to Miss J. chew out delivery men who tracked mud into her freshly-polished floor space, and watched her, without reservation, hug a mom who had just delivered her daughter to CHYC and now was walking out the door without her. Miss J. made the long trek from CHYC to my hotel room last Thursday to bring me chicken soup and ginger ale when I was sick. There are not too many receptionists with that level of kindness intrinsically built into their souls.
I will miss her. Wolf will miss her. She made three years more bearable, more like home, more like family.