I went outside to the shared washer and dryer in my apartment building to get my clothes and found all of them painstakingly folded in my basket, with the single dress hung over the side so it wouldn't wrinkle. It's not the first time my wonderful neighbor upstairs has done this for me, but more like the 20th.
This lovely woman's act of kindness is emblematic of my experience over the last several months. I am filled with wonder at the fact that every time I felt I was at capacity, my phone rang, or someone was at my door with offerings of a hug, or coffee, or even chocolate, whatever exact form of support I needed right that second.
If I were to write my original post about opening a pickle jar now, the panic would be gone. Instead the first thing I would do is call one of my amazing friends to help me, knowing that we would figure it out together while laughing at how bizarre my constant craving for pickles is (and now in addition to pickles, sauerkraut.)
I feel like "single mother" is not an appropriate title for me anymore. There is nothing singular about my current situation, as any remnants I once felt of being alone after getting divorced are long gone. I am incredibly grateful for the people who show show up every day of my life to make sure I'm loved and supported as I clumsily navigate through life and raise my girls the best I can. I don't even dare to imagine my life without them.