I pass a group of short, brown apartment buildings every day on my way to work.

They’re grubby and old along one of the busiest morning streets.

At the beginning of the school year, I noticed a mom and her young daughter waiting for the school bus on a tiny patch of side lawn. They weren’t waiting like a lot of people might be – glancing at the time, impatient and cranky, or worse, a girl standing alone as her mom backed out of the driveway on the way to work.

They caught my eye because they seemed to really enjoy the time together, day after day. They talked and laughed, hugged and twirled.

I wondered, what was their story? Why did a 40 year-old mother wearing business clothes live in Grubby Brown-ville? And why didn’t it seem to matter, as she engaged in a morning laugh with her 6 year-old in front of all the people passing them, seeing their short apartment?

I wondered, what went wrong with their plans for life? Where did they dream of living?

Today, it rained. I don’t mean a gentle, morning sprinkle, I mean a rain where the sky opened up, where rain pummeled the pavement. They were there, beneath a pink and white umbrella, the mom with her arms wrapped around her daughter’s waist, chin on top of her head beneath the torrent.

The image of their family passed in slow motion.

It was an image that said, hold onto the people you love.

It said, hold onto them, even when it’s raining really really really hard.

It said: this is love.

This matters.

“To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven.” -Karen Sunde

Photo by cabbit