Catherine’s Table stories explore the heart of a family, the soul in quiet living, and the power of love. I also write about living with mental illness because sharing stories opens minds.
Catherine’s Table is named in honor of my Aunt Kay who is my second mom. She taught me how to find joy and comfort in everything we did. I spent countless summer nights at her table where I learned what it means to be a family.
The Signs Told the StoryMaureen Goldman
The day we dropped our daughter Emma off at Rhodes College was a not a day orchestrated for reflection. There was a brisk schedule to keep and a well filled with angst and sadness in my heart. My baby was moving on.
When Emma was settled in her dorm room, the last pillow arranged on her bed, good signs reveled themselves like gifts and tonics. The first sign came from the head of food service who noticed me standing in the student dining room looking lost and forlorn. She greeted me warmly with a hug and a promise of good care.
The next sign came when I stopped at Fresh Market to get Emma a plant for her dorm room. I spent too much time driving around, trying to find a nursery that was out of business. I was inching close to being late for her convocation ceremony, the last time we would all be together until Thanksgiving. Standing outside Fresh Market, I considered how much time I had to obsess over plant selection and gave myself three minutes.
By the time I got to checkout, I was calculating my drive-time nervously. The young man at checkout charged me for the pot, not the plant inside. I weighed truth and time. Then I went to the dark side and headed to my car. Half way I stopped with a strong feeling that my transgression might ruin everything—a very bad sign.
Thoughts about being late would have to wait because I needed to pay for the plant. Then the best sign of all was revealed in the form of a woman at checkout who took the time to get to know me a little. She asked about the plant, who it was for, and commented on the pot’s design. Then she handed me the plant, looked at me with the kindest eyes, and said, “Rhodes is a really good school. Don’t worry about your girl. We all look out for each other here.”
Emma was in a real community, on campus and beyond. The signs were all around us. She will be OK. We’re all going to be alright.