The last thing I wanted to do was go out for lunch. Even with my best friends. Since my husband and I had separated three months before, I didn’t really want to see anyone.
“Come on,” my friend Kristin urged when she called to invite me out. “It’ll do you good to get out and have a few laughs.”
I couldn’t imagine ever laughing again, not the way I was feeling. But I couldn’t put my friends off any longer. I showed up at the restaurant, knowing I wouldn’t be very good company.
Everyone looked so sunny and happy, I felt like a black cloud as I settled into my chair. Please, God, help me have some fun today. I didn’t want to ruin everyone else’s good time.
My pals passed around the salsa and told jokes. I pasted a smile on my face and let my eyes drift around the restaurant.
A young girl sat with her parents at a table opposite ours. When her big eyes met mine I felt like she saw right through me, down to the sadness inside.
A moment later the girl appeared at our table and dropped something into my palm: a sticker. A little brown bear hugged a bright red heart. “Somebody loves me,” it read.
The little girl returned to her table. I stuck the bear on my blouse. My friends—these dear friends—burst out laughing, and so did I.
Somebody loved me, all right. Enough to send me the perfect message on a silly sticker. How could I not take joy in that?
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