A few days ago, I am feeling that late-afternoon slump. I am dragging and still have a lot to do so I make myself some coffee and wouldn’t you know it, just as I put my coffee down on my bamboo coaster—one of the last purchases I made in the States before moving—it cracks in half. And I pull out another one and see that they are all about to split in half.
I guess the bamboo coasters aren’t adapting to the humid Mediterranean climate as well as my husband and I are.
So I put the coffee on the kitchen counter and head out. I remember seeing a shop around the corner that sells coasters, and off I go. Within a few minutes of wandering around the store, I see exactly what I want—black and white lacquer coasters. Perfect, I think, and maybe I’ll make it home while the coffee is still hot.
The saleswoman is ringing up my purchase and asks, Is this a gift? I say, no, it’s for me.
Just then a woman walks in the store and with a voice thick with years of smoking, offers, smart woman! All the time we buy gifts for other people. When do we do something for ourselves?
I take this as an invitation (I love impromptu conversations!) to chime in. I agree, I am a mother and wife and sometimes I forget what it feels like to put me first.
Yes, the saleswoman adds, we give and we give and we give, as wives and mothers and friends and daughters.
I think it might be changing though, I say. I have daughters and they are very good at self-advocating, of making sure their needs are met.
How old are they? asks the smoker. Are they married? Do they have children? Grandchildren?
They are in their twenties, and they are single, no children, I answer
Ha! That’s why, she says. They’ll end up eating shit just like us!
And we all start laughing—these two women and I, whose names I don’t know, who are different ages and backgrounds, and yet here we are, on a hot summer afternoon, in the middle of a war, sharing this very special moment, and finding the humor.
A minute later, I head back out into the heat and I hear a jangle sound. I look down and see an anklet I had tried on and had completely forgotten. I run back in and say, I’m so sorry! I forgot about the anklet!
The saleswoman comes over to me and gives me a big hug and says, this is my gift to you. From one mother to another.
And I say thank you and the two women say thank you and we are all nearly in tears—from a little bit of joy and a little of laughter.
Comments