As I peered out the window, still groggy from a night of restless sleep, I saw a figure emerging from the red SUV. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the face under the floppy sunhat—it was Mrs. Thompson, my mom’s best friend from church. With her infectious energy and warm smile, she seemed like she was on a mission.
I rushed downstairs, curiosity and hope intertwining within me. As I opened the door, my face must have been a mixture of confusion and wonder. Mrs. Thompson stood there, holding three garment bags and a shopping bag that seemed to be overflowing with mystery.
“Good morning, sunshine!” she greeted me, her Southern twang as comforting as ever. “Your mom would never forgive me if I didn’t make sure you had your moment to sparkle.”
