With the crusts cut off.

I sat down with a family friend for lunch today.

She pulled out a plate covered in plastic wrap with small, pre-cut sandwiches—egg salad and turkey on wheat. Each one with the crusts gently cut off, she placed them carefully in a spiral design on a cobalt ceramic plate.

“Did I tell you I used to be a rainbow girl growing up?” She asked me. “Every meeting, the moms of the group would bring sandwiches just like this. I wanted to give you something I had when I was little—I wanted to show you something like that.”

She unwrapped the plastic and provided fruit and chips to accompany it. We sat down and talked for hours.

After store-bought cookies and more conversation, she took a moment to tell me how proud she is of me. How sharp and focused of a woman I’ve become.

Words I don’t take lightly as they came from someone whose known me all my life. She watched me learn how to walk in more ways than one.