the ONE person.

"How about this one, Leslie? I really think it would work." said the woman holding up a bottle of body wash.
Her teenage daughter looked back at her in disgust and huffed. "Like I already said, I don't want that one," Leslie loudly replied as she stormed away.

It was the second time I'd heard Leslie talk to her mother as if she were a lesser life form. I'd had enough.

"Excuse me," I quietly said to Leslie, who looked at me inquisitively. "I couldn't help but hear you and your mom."

"Yeah?" she answered as she put her fist on her hip that was cocked to the side.

I told her, "I live in Memphis. I'm here in Little Rock for a few days each week, off and on, because my Mama is in the hospital, fighting for her life. I'm in this drugstore to get a few items that might possibly bring her a little comfort."

After pausing to give Leslie a moment to respond, I continued, "I have a seven and a half month old daughter. As much as it breaks my heart, I know that someday, probably during her teenage years, she will most likely treat me poorly, but no matter what she does or what she says I will always be willing to lay down my own life for hers."

Leslie didn't seem to see where I was going with this. "In the last year, with the birth of my child and with my Mama being diagnosed with inoperable, incurable cancer, I've realized one thing: No matter who becomes your friend or lover, not even if you get married someday, will anyone ever be able to love you as much or as intensely as your mother."

By this time, Leslie's mother was listening to my quiet reprimand of her daughter. "Please, even if you think she's the dumbest person on the face of this planet, at least treat her with respect... especially in public. Remember, she's the only one who will love you no matter what."

Leslie may not realize the value of that lesson, but you possibly may. If not, might you know someone who would? If so, please pass this along.