These small words elicit king-sized effects.
My first cranky thought, another songwriter has run out of originality, as in:
Being there (ooh, baby) Being there (ooh, baby) Being there is like … Being there (ooooh, BABY!)
Okay, I need a second cup of coffee today. With double cream.
Now I recall that being there when airline personnel solicit volunteers to take a different flight, I might land a free future trip.
Being in the right checkout line can mean the difference between three Tylenol® and only one.
Being there at a library during a 1970 Christmas break placed me near the railing of a second-story atrium, eyeing my future husband below. Thus, I ensured he wasn’t with a girl and could “accidentally” run into him. (He still calls this stalking, but that’s because he hasn’t yet drunk his morning tea.)
Being there at a gas station when someone, perched on a ladder, is changing prices can mean a savings of 11 whole cents per gallon. Although, if the price is upped 11 whole cents, you’ve picked the perfect time and place to ruin your morning.
Though that timing isn’t as bad as certain shoplifters’ when, according to Reader’s Digest, they attempted major heists on Shop-with-a-Cop Day.
Being there can get complicated. Still, we want others to be there for us.
My mother refined this into an art form. One joyful day, when I learned I was ranked 10th in my high school class, I arrived home to the fragrance of muffins fresh from the oven. She’d baked them either to celebrate or console. Whatever happened, they were there for me.
So was Mom.
However, she also was there to enslave me with chores, require church attendance, and stare through my dates and me with righteous black eyes.
Years later, I appreciated her when I, too, baked after-school treats, mini-vanned my kids everywhere, and wandered into the den to “get stamps” from my desk while they were entertaining dates.
Being there can be threatening, wonderful, scary, tedious, triumphant, smelly, or comforting, but rarely boring. And lots better than not being there.
Sometimes, it’s just plain cuddly.
Tonight, Hubby and I are watching a Cubs game. We don’t make brilliant conversation. We don’t have to make conversation at all.
We simply savor being there.
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: Who’s been there for you?