Being Bahama

A Mother’s Tears

I found myself at the lake trying desperately to think of another place to run to.  As if this was something I could run from.  I imagined that retreating from life would somehow stop time, allowing me the luxury to make sense of it all.  I slowly came to the realization that it just doesn’t work that way. 

Reluctantly, I powered up my comm device and was immediately contacted by a customer.  I couldn’t think of a viable excuse to decline making him the special order he requested… so I made it.  When I asked where I could meet him to deliver his goods I really didn’t expect him to tell me that he was already in my shop waiting for me.  I hadn’t planned to go back there yet.  I wasn’t sure I wanted to.  But ready or not, I had a customer waiting on an order I’d already made.  How could I refuse?

He tried on the clothing I’d made for him, was pleased with my work and paid me well.  He even complimented me on my business.  I’m certain he had no idea that the smile he brought to my face was the first I’d smiled in a long while.  He didn’t know that he’d given me just the push I needed to pick up that crafting tool.  Nor did he understand that walking into that shop to meet him made it so much easier than it would have been to go there alone. 

When he’d left I looked around at the familiar surroundings and was reminded how much I love my job.  I love being a tailor and I wouldn’t be anything else.  I checked in with the vendors, fired up the factory and straightened up around the shop.  Doing felt good.

Then a call came from an old friend who I’d not heard from in a very long time.  I travelled to Moneta to see her.  Once again, having a reason to return and knowing that someone would be there to distract me in those first few, fearful moments… well, it made all the difference.   

Once she was settled in I took care of business around town.  It felt so good to be back in my life, doing what I love to do. 

I’m surrounded by all the familiar people and places and things…  but that’s not to say everything is the same.  It’s different.  I’m different.  But this different isn’t as horrible or scary as I imagined it would be.  Life is going to go on.  I’m going to go on.

I’ve determined that there’s reason enough to hold on to hope that the news I received wasn’t true.  I’ve also determined that whether or not it is, this fear and sadness isn’t going anywhere.  But rather than allow it to take over as I have been, I’m putting it in it’s place.  The fact I’ve lost doesn’t mean there isn’t anything more to gain. 

In a nook of the wood I’ve placed a fountain,  “A Mother’s Tears”.   And like my own, it flows endlessly.  But as it flows life goes on around it.  The trees and wildflowers grow, the seasons change, the creatures roam… and occasionally a mother will come by to replenish the water, trim back the bush, enjoy the peaceful cascading of the water and think about the son she loves.