Life of A Parking Space

I stood outside with my daughters, one snowy and icy day, cleaning off our black SUV with the new, long, double sided snow brush my husband had sent us long distance through Amazon.
Just the day before, I had complained to him that he had thrown away my broken snow brush last summer when he was cleaning out our old Volvo, getting it ready to be detailed and sold. I told him not to throw it away, that one day I would wake up and find snow, and no brush to clean off that snow with.
And I was right, the season's first snow had falled and melted, and I had had to clean the car with the back of my coat sleeve. Now the second snow fall had arrived, and it was much hardier than the first one-no back of sleeves wipe would do the trick for me. And so I complained to my husband that night, as I stayed snowed in my apartment with my two little ones, trying to entertain them and remain sane.
"I'm stuck without a snow brush. Thanks hubby. What am I supposed to do tomorrow morning when I try to go out?!"
And so, my new snowbrush arrived the next day by mail. Nice, sleek and long.
And we stood outside in our apartment parking lot, me cornering my two year old so she wouldn't run out into the street and watching my 3.5 year old trying to clean the snow off the car with her new toy.

And we watched one parking spot, two cars down from ours, fill up with a white Camry after having stood empty for a while. Ten minutes later, its driver returned and drove away, leaving the spot empty again. Two minutes later, that spot filled up again-this time with a silver Passat. And within minutes, its driver had returned and drove away to another destination. And there I stood with my little sumy, brushing away at that snow, breaking up those clumps of ice. And in drove the third car, a navy blue Volvo V70 and parked. All within 20 minutes of my stand. Twenty minutes, three cars, one parking spot. And one on-looker who watched it all.

Standing in one spot, and seeing another spots dramatic, quick changes, all within minutes was symbolic to me. Amazing, changes come and go, pass by us, and we remain standing, watching, waiting, hoping.

Happiness

I got a compliment from my almost four year old daughter the other day, and it lit up my world, brightened up my day. It was the first compliment I've gotten from her, and I didn't imagine that little children could notice these things, and that their appreciation would make me so happy.

I was walking outside our apartment door, ready to take my daughters and husband on a couple of trips before I went out alone to an old friend's baby shower. As I walked out the door in my purple jilbab and silver-lined, purple scarf, my little daughter looked up to me and said, 'You look beautiful, mama. I like what you're wearing." I smiled this deep, heart-felt smile. "Thanks, Samsoum." And it kept me smiling for the rest of the day. It gave me a bit of confidence in my step as I walked into the baby shower that day.

Thank you for giving me confidence, dear daughter, thank you for bringing a real smile to my face.
There's just something about a child's true, unadulterated honesty, something about a young one's compliments that can never be replicated by any adult compliment, for in a child's compliment you detect true appreciation, unadulterated by any feelings of being kind. 100% honesty. Children, the true brightness in our horizon.