Like a Drop of Rain in a Parched Desert

{This post is part of the five minute friday with Kate MotaungA community of writers who write for five minutes on the word of choice. Today's word: Mom.}

It was always 7up or coke poured cold into a glass of heaping ice junks. And those straws, the ones with the stripes and the bendy necks? She'd place those in the cup as well.

Then, dead in the middle of the night, she'd quietly wake me and give me just a little sip, enough to moisten the mouth and put a sense of hope and relief into what felt like a desert that finally got a microscopic drop of saving rain.

I can't say how much that one sip meant especially when your down on your back and feel like the bones may never move and the eyes may never look life filled again.

That 7up it went all over the carpet in that brick house in Alabama with the blue shutters and fire pit in the front where we, girls, would sit and play in the musty heat of the sweltering south. I can still remember it and where.

It was the same carpet where my sister and I had tracked mud onto, trying to escape, after Dad discovered us hanging from the clothesline out back like a pair of misbehaving monkeys. You can say we got a whipping for that one and that one rightly deserved.

But she'd pat the back and hold your hand just so and I can still see it and she'd stay there right by the edge of the bed in the middle of the early morning night waiting a few minutes and probably thinking I had fallen asleep she'd shuffle out. 

I was awake when she'd left. I'd never want her to stop.

Mom's were like a drop of rain in a parched desert. 

So little can do so much.

And sometimes it takes all of our will just to give a drop, but it's remembered and felt forever. 

And that drop, it gives life to the lowest, meaning to the misery, and hope to the helpless.

Never see little as less than.

Little things can fill a heart big. 


  1. This is a good reminder for me, a tired mom, of how important the little things are. Thank you so much for sharing. I needed this. (#FMF)

    1. Thank you, Tanya! I'm a little late in replying, but so glad you stopped by!

  2. Bonnie, this is exquisite, a treasure. I wish I had memories like this.

    Praying for you always.

    1. Thank you, Andrew. Sorry for the delay in getting back to you. I pray you are doing well.

  3. This imagery is beautiful! It truly did quench those parched places. Moms always seem to know what we need. I'm in the 7 spot this week!

    1. Hi Tara, thank you for your comment. I'm just getting around to responding! Blessings.