Chicken Soup for the Soul

When I was little, I used to sneak into my mom's room and go through her things... I'd use her makeup, dab on her perfume, try on her clothes, and play grown-up. I remember that she used to keep a copy of Chicken Soup for the Soul in her bathroom, and I loved reading all of the heartfelt, touching stories... Even if I never truly grasped the messages behind them. I even bought her Chicken Soup for the Mother's Soul one year, because I knew she liked the books so much. As I got older and more in touch with my emotions (which can be out of control sometimes.. But hey, I'm a girl, give me a break!), I started to realize the beauty behind these--and similar--compilations. These are collections of stories that allow readers to identify with each situation, to laugh, cry, smile and reminisce about these (and their own) stories and situations. To me, picking up one of these books and flipping through stories in the cafe here at Barnes & Noble, takes me back to being that little girl in mommy's blush and lipstick, reading about tales of love, family and loss, and finding wonder in a world that I hadn't yet begun to understand or experience for myself. Though I finally can understand and relate to the words that are before me, I'll forever be that innocent, curious little girl, searching for answers about growing up in this crazy world.

The Last "I Love You"
-Debbi Smoot-

Carol's husband was killed in an accident last year. Jim, only fifty-two years old, was driving home from work. The other driver was a teenager with a very high blood-alcohol level. Jim died instantly. The teenager was in the emergency room for less than two hours.

There were other ironic twists: It was Carol's fiftieth birthday, and Jim had two plane tickets to Hawaii in his pocket. He was going to surprise her. Instead, he was killed by a drunk driver.

"How have you survived this?" I finally asked Carol, a year later.

Her eyes welled up with tears. I thought I had said the wrong thing, but she gently took my hand and said, It's alright; I want to tell you. The day I married Jim, I promised I would never let him leave the house without telling him I loved him. He made the same promise. It got to be a joke between us, and as babies came along, it got to be a hard promise to keep. I remember running down the driveway, saying 'I love you' through clenched teeth when I was mad, or driving to the office to put a note in his car. It was a funny challenge.

"We made a lot of memories trying to say 'I love you' before noon every day of our married life.

"The morning Jim died, he left a birthday card in the kitchen and slipped out to the car. I heard the engine starting. Oh, no, you don't, buster, I thought. I raced out and banged on the window until he rolled it down.

"Here on my fiftieth birthday, Mr. James E. Garret, I, Carol Garret, want to go on record as saying I love you!'

"That's how I've survived. Knowing that the last words I said to Jim were 'I love you.'"