The Quiet Ride Home

I picked up a single mom one morning who had two little girls in tow — bright eyes, tiny backpacks, pigtails bouncing.

It was their first day of daycare.

The girls were buzzing with excitement, proudly telling me all about the toys and friends they hoped to meet.

Their mom smiled and chimed in here and there, but you could tell her heart was somewhere else entirely.

We pulled up, she walked them inside, then came back out alone.

On the ride home, the energy was gone.

She didn’t say much, just stared out the window, tears slipping down her face.

I kept quiet for most of it — sometimes silence is the best kind of listening — then finally said:

“They’re going to have such a good day. You’re doing a hard thing really, really well.”

She smiled, still crying, and whispered,

“Thank you. I needed to hear that.”