Some days—and they are rare—I feel like I’m on top of my game. Yesterday was one of those days. I ran a few errands that were on my list, fit in a medical appointment, and made sure our younger son had what he needed for his eighth grade dance.
I even got to the grocery store, and I had everything we needed for taco night.
If there were awards for having a productive working mom day, I thought I would at least get a mention, if not a nomination.
Then, as I started putting dinner on the table, I couldn’t find the cheese. I had the shredded lettuce, the diced tomatoes and onions, a bowl of refried beans, some sour cream, freshly warmed tortillas and shells, and enough taco meat for a feast. I had even made some Spanish rice. But there was no cheese.
I don’t know about your family, but we might as well scrap taco night if there is no cheese.
I remembered picking some out at the store, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I dug down into my empty grocery store bags to make sure I hadn’t missed it while unloading. I searched the refrigerator. I asked my husband whether he had seen cheese while he was helping put things away.
The cheese was nowhere to be found.
I traced and retraced my steps, and I finally thought to open the freezer. There, tucked alongside the ice cream sandwiches was the missing bag of shredded cheese.
Whew. It was frozen, but the taco meat was hot enough to melt it. And I didn’t have to make a trip back to the store or persuade anyone to try to enjoy cheese-less tacos.
A taco dinner without cheese is not a crisis. But having cheese at our dinner was better, even if the cheese was a little frosty. And discovering the cheese after I had resigned myself to a dinner without it made it taste even better.
When we lose something—or think we’ve lost it—we treasure it that much more. I was thinking that as I dropped our younger son off for his eighth grade dance last night. His older brother missed out on any events like that because of Covid. So, driving to school to pick up a happy-but-tired teen whose throat was sore from yelling with his friends and whose feet hurt from dancing was that much more wonderful. I soaked in every detail.
Life is busy, and life is good. There are social events for the eighth graders. There are graduations and school closing activities and the mad scramble that spring school events bring to our lives. As we close the book on this wonderfully ordinary and extraordinary school year, I find myself realizing—not for the first time—that there is something truly special about experiencing something that might have been lost.
And it’s even more wonderful than discovering some missing cheese.
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