Mirabel looked down at the millions of cars shooting by as she pressed her face against the barbed wire fence.
"Where are they all going in such a hurry?" the thought suddenly shook her, waking her from a stupor she didn’t know she was in as the bridge vibrated underneath her feet. Getting from point A to point B seemed to be the most frequent and dreaded chore people in our society endure.
"What is so special about point B?" she suddenly realized. "I mean, every point B becomes a point A eventually," she mused as she slowly strolled towards home. "It seems to me if people stopped seeing them as point A’s and point B’s then this world would be a much happier place."
Mirabel arrived home in time for dinner. Her mother was making her favorite, pot roast. The smell tickled her nose as she made her way to the kitchen. Giving her mom a huge hug, she gave a gracious thank you for dinner.
"You’re the best mom in the world," Mirabel said sincerely, opening up her heart.
Her mom just stared, misty-eyed, at her bright, young daughter. "Where on earth did that come from?" her mom asked, a sweet smile playing at her lips.
"I ' know…I just felt like saying it."
Mirabel strolled out of the kitchen and into the garden. Sitting on a bench, she was amazed at how wonderful the spring breeze felt against her cheek. Her eyes played across the stretch of dandelions at her feet, every one of which looked radiantly back up at her. The sun warmed the back of her neck as she bent forward and gently plucked a dandelion. Twirling it between her thumb and index finger, she had the sudden awareness that she needed nothing else than this very moment. It wasn’t as if there was anything special about it and at the same time it couldn’t have been any more special.
Her mom called her in to eat and as she sat down across from the person who selflessly enabled her to live, she burst into tears.
"Honey, what’s wrong?" her mother asked worriedly, as she started to get up and come towards her.
"No, Mom, I’m okay, really. It’s just…" her sentence died out as she completely let go. Burying her face in her mother’s soft warmth, she cried and cried and cried. She cried for so long and so hard that her mother was worried from time to time if she was going to drown in her own tears.
Finally, Mirabel rose up, sniffling.
"Are you ready to tell me what’s up, Mirabel?" her mom asked gently, looking deeply into her eyes.
"There aren’t any words, Mom, I’m sorry. I wish there were, OH, how I wish there were!!"
Mirabel didn’t need any words after all. Her eyes said everything that needed to be said. Her mother nearly fell over for her daughter’s eyes had become an endless well of clarity. It was as if the whole universe existed in her deep, dark brown eyes. Her mom both collapsed and was lifted as her entire inner world radiated with glee. Laughing like little children, the two women embraced in the ecstasy of unconditional love. It was the best and coldest meal of pot roast either of them had ever eaten.
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