My daughter Amanda lives 492 miles away from me. She’s in New York getting her second college degree. (Over-achiever.)
We text and tweet and email a lot. Just little silly things, mostly.
And sometimes I send her cookies. With maybe a sticky note inside. Or maybe nothing but a smiley face on the envelope. And sometimes I don’t even send the cookies at all because something bad happens to them on the way to the post office. It’s like a ten-minute drive, after all.
Last week I sent her two homemade ginger snaps, all alone in an envelope without even a smiley.
And she posted this picture on Facebook.
I smiled at first, and then I cried. Just a little.
And who wouldn’t cry just a little, I mean, just look at those adorable hashtags.
Oh my gosh I love my daughter.
It’s these little things that make the biggest memories. Back in the early 1990’s we sent our son a care package because he couldn’t make it home from college for Thanksgiving. It was a complete Thanksgiving dinner. Every ThanksGiving since then he mentions that care package and how much it meant to him.