Holiness In Publix

I'm in a hurry to pick up Cassidy, the ten-year-old, from school so I throw Che, the four-month-old, over my shoulder to rush in Publix to purchase Alfredo sauce and Pita pockets for Maddie, the clueless-fifteen-year-old-know-it-all.

It's 2:59 and Marsh Point Elementary School lets out at 3:10 so the middle school can let out right after because the High School lets out right after that creating a cluster-fuck of traffic built around poor planning, buss schedules and parental inconvenience, so I have ten minutes.

Che loves when I'm running and she's bouncing and slobbering on my grey UGA tee shirt as I race down the aisle.

"HEY!" he gleefully screams.

He ... is a rotund, African-American with a baby's smile, pushing a broom which he steers away from my feet.

Stopping on a dime, frustrated because I'm running out of time, I glare at him.

His baby smile grows and large brown eyes glisten.

"AHHH," he gasps, taking my own breath away.

"I'm going to have one," he smiles. "Can I please hold her?"

I stare at a child in an overgrown body, happily working, wearing the Publix green on a head too large for the cap.

Che smiles and coos, leaning towards him in my arms.

He claps and eyes me in desperation.

And I hand him our baby.

"Hold my broom," he smiles as he takes her.

Time stops.

Tenderly he cradles our tiny Cherub in thick black arms and they share a language I don't understand.

Shoppers shove loaded carts pass as I watch the two touch foreheads and share a laugh.

It could be a minute but it feels like a thousand years.

"Thank you," he cries handing her back. "I can't wait until I can ..." and his voice trails off into another time and place.

Salt water's running down my cheeks as Che resumes slobbering on my shoulder.

Not knowing what else to do, the three of us hug in the middle of the Bread section while people stare.

I'm not certain how but the next thing that happens is Che and I watch Cass walk across the street with a hundred of her friends under the careful watch of the Crossing Guards.

She's oblivious because she's staring at her phone ... just like the other hundred.

I have no idea how we made it on time.

Che and her friend took forever and neither were in a hurry to let go.

"Hey!" Cass bellows climbing in, absentmindedly throwing her backpack on me to climb in the back with her sister, "how was your day?"

She's just being nice because she's cooing over her sister, sticking a bottle in her mouth and critiquing how I dressed her.

"You wouldn't believe what just happened," I answer driving away.

Honestly, I still don't.

Holiness doesn't hit as much as it slaps you in the face.

My face still stings.