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Mother's Day Special




Today is Mother’s Day. I have no children. My mother is long gone and my inherited dog doesn’t recognize special days like this. A friend invited me to have lunch at her home. Her children are out of town and couldn’t come. She has a tendency to rescue strays and has invited others also.


She usually visits me at my house. I had only been to her home once before. It is a long way out. I had the directions in the car, so I felt confident I could get there without any trouble.


For various reasons, I was running late. The clothes I had planned to wear didn’t look good, and then I cut my hand with my comb. Who does that? The bleeding wouldn’t stop, which resulted in an unofficial lab test. Apparently my blood is thinner than it should be. The flower I had planned to take had somehow disappeared and there weren’t any others in any other locations.


Finally, I was in the car looking for the directions to her house. I couldn't find them. They were not in the console, the glove box, on the floor, under the seat or in the backseat. I decided I knew the roads pretty well, so I took off.


At about the right distance, I came to a road name that seemed familiar, so I turned off the main road. The houses and terrain didn’t look familiar. There was a little dog with a harness on that crossed the road in front of me, so I really slowed down.


I realized I was on the wrong road and I had better call my host, to apologize for being late and lost. I pulled over to call.


Before I could dial my friend, a man came up to the car, holding his dog. He asked if I owned the property. I said no. He said it was where he used to live. He started crying. He said his mother used to live there and was gone. He just wanted to visit where she used to be. He was really crying by then. It was obvious he was alone, and he was hurting big time.


Haven’t I been through most of that? Didn’t I know how important it was to feel the pain? Didn’t I know the pain of loneliness?


I talked with him for a while. I told him how fortunate he was to have had such a wonderful mother and that he was a good son to care so much. I told him that it was important for him to remember the good times. That it was important for him to feel.


I couldn’t exactly invite this stranger to have dinner at my friend's house, even though she probably would have welcomed a person in distress.


I did have to leave him by the side of the road, alone with his dog, hurting.


When I finally arrived at my friend's house and told her of my experience, she said it wasn’t an accident. I turned on that road at that time for a reason.


I don’t know about that. I just know I am fortunate to have the friends I have. Those who care when I hurt. Friends who make sure I am not alone too much. People who always make sure there is someone to greet me at my house when I arrive from my migration journey. That I have those to call to check up on also. I texted everyone, just in case.


How many lonely people are out there that have no one to care? I met my grief partner on the street. How many more are sitting in their chairs, alone and hurting? I hope you know I care for you. I hope you have taken this journey with me, that you find someone on the street that needs to hear words of kindness.


Today, it seemed like a flower from the Pots of Promise bloomed. I’m sure it was a Mother’s Day flower.


Let me know how you are doing. I really do care.


Contemplation: Are you sharing your caring with someone who is alone?

Sincerely,

Lynn Brooke


© 2023 Our New Chances

Photo Credit: © 2023 Rachel Gareau




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