What a difference a day makes!
The weather report and our attention to detail has improved.
Below is an excerpt from our book, revised from the rainy day version.
I launched into a rant that came from Lord-knows-where and Pat, God bless her , didn’t flinch.
“You know that automatic ball machine on the tennis court?”
“That’s how my life feels right now! And the balls keep firing from the chute. And I’ve got lobs, and drop shots coming at me, and they’re smacking me in the head. And the freaking things keep coming, Pat.”
I was wild-eyed.
“And dammit,” welling with tears, voice wavering, “I’m wearing flip-flops and all I’ve got is this warped Christ Evert racquet I’ve had since eighth grade.
I paused. Then the flood gates opened. I looked down, sobbing in front of this poised, put-together woman and stared at her perfect ballet flats, catching my breath.
Pat studied me for a moment, then said softly, “Lynda, look at me.”
Mopping my cheeks with the back of my hand, I reluctantly met her gaze.
She placed her palm over her heart, in a gesture that signaled acceptance. Right then, I thanked God – and Amelia for scribbling her name on a napkin.
Like a patient guide, setting out over terrain she’d covered many, many times before, Pat took my hand and led me back to the trailhead that day. For now, she held the compass and I would have followed her anywhere. In the weeks to come, Pat’s office would become the safest place I knew.
Probably because Pat was in it.