Every once in a while, my mom stops by to drop off what she calls "little prizes." They're small treasures—trinkets she finds at the Dollar Store or long-forgotten items buried in the kitchen junk drawer.
Sometimes, though, she'll bring something tastier: A loaf of bread or cupcake from a local bakery, or even a cup of chicken noodle soup because I "sounded stuffy" when we last spoke.
Those "prizes," as she calls them, may be small, but they mean a lot. They're little reminders that she's thinking of me, even if it is only returning the mechanical pencil I bought in college because it had my name printed on it.
But sometimes, those treasures are downright useful. Several times she's given me small, silicone salad dressing containers. "For your lunch," she tells me each time. "You need it for your lunch."
She's right. I do need them. But I never use them for salad dressings.
