I am chatting with two of my friends in their store. I do not feel comfortable with what brings me here this crisp, fall morning.

It is not always easy to share certain things even for a writer like me, but I need to confide in them.

The store is warm and inviting with intricate wooden details. The products sit fabulously within clear glass, display cases. My friends are sisters who are as internally beautiful as their striking exterior. Their is a warmth that shines within these walls. It feels more like an inviting home where people are permitted to shop.

I  fight back the tears that swim in my eyes. I am weary of this tiresome signature of divorce. The sisters spot the sadness in my tone. One is more compassionate than the other as I humbly ask my question.

Their father the strong and honorable patriarch who has built this business hears a portion of what I am there for. He comes from behind the counter and walks toward me.

His warmth and gentleness, filtering through his eyes.

“You are going to be okay,” he says. “You were never going to be able to shine in your situation. You will be better off. ”

There are moments in life, when people touch us in ways that seem effortless to them, yet seem to move mountains for us.

I turn to walk out and swing, the massive, wooden door to the side. As I do it feels as if I am swiping the mountain out of my path.

I am grateful for his humanity. I am grateful that when his glance made its way to me that he did not see a grown woman, but rather a girl, who despite her age was in desperate need of the golden gift of parental wisdom. I am grateful that he offers the words that a father of daughters knows someone else’s daughter needs to hear.

The sun hits my eyes as my foot hits the step.

It is shining.