The Meaning of a Lost Glove
ALAN writes:
One morning last week I was walking along a residential street in south St. Louis when I noticed, there on the sidewalk in front of me, a child’s glove. No one else was walking nearby. Evidently it had been dropped and not missed at that moment.
So what? So this:
It struck me the moment after I saw it and walked past it. The child’s glove reminded me instantly of something sacred and solemn: A mother’s devotion.
It reminded me of my mother’s attentiveness to her little boy’s well-being on winter mornings more than half a century ago when she made sure I was dressed warmly before she let me go outside to play in the snow.
It reminded me of winter mornings in 1957-’59 when I walked through freshly-fallen snow on the seven-block path through Marquette Park to St. Anthony of Padua parochial school.

