Disappointed by a delay, the train delay to Chicago gave us time to relax. Iced coffee and chai tea in our hands, I settled into a table for conversation with my nephew as my husband attended work via texting with his exhaustively small Blackberry. Easy chatting everywhere in the crowded waiting area. My mind wandered to nearby couples planning a trip, a lady asking a gentleman about receiving Wi-Fi, a lady asking to share a small circular table--2 private entities sharing one space, a young lady upset on her phone, a young man zoning to the Beats in his ears. Many people and many moments passed. Less coffee and no chai tea later, we joined the formed line for the arriving train.
Still quietly sharing. Still people watching. Still my husband texting. Now nephew groping in his wallet.
A sudden sure realization grabbed me from low in my stomach, paralyzing my throat. A quick turn and seeming run to the man holding my fate behind the counter. Quietly, I thought maybe I shouldn't ask, but I had to know. His answer was NO; they would not. Panic. Begging a second time, the answer was NO, assuredly as the first came a certainty that there would be no change. My heart fainting, I shouldn't have asked.
I wanted to blame him. Couldn't he see I belonged on that train? I needed to be on that train. I wanted to get mad at him. He has to see that I was harmless to others. I wanted him to know my desperation. I only needed to get to my son, to see his performance. My world for this moment in time belonged at the end of that train. Doesn't that love and need and pure desire somehow supersede his regulations? I had my purchased ticket in hand. Can he not see my pain of being left out, left behind?
The only answered logic shouted that it was not his fault but mine. My mistake. My idiocy. My payment. My punishment. My missing out. My being left behind. Alone.
No corner could hide my pain from the crowd. Wanting to be lost in the crowd. Wanting to be granted permission to go with the crowd. Seeking refuge, my mind raced toward a small, closed, dark tunnel. Amidst the crowd, I sheltered into me, into my corner, clasping hands over my face. Losing awareness. Wanting to collapse into the sadness. Scared tears streaming, disappointment and loneliness climbing. Short breathes made it hard for my husband to hear clear words. No quick answers just a rapidly silent heart beat flailing over a fine edge. Soft questions under seeking brows from my husband and nephew sought answers. Rejected, no answers were the Yes I needed. Weightless and heavy of heart.
What was I thinking---traveling light walking the streets of Chicago? How could I have forgotten what I surely knew I needed? I always facilitate all the needed trip details. What kind of mother was I traveling without my license? Having nothing to prove who I was somehow concluded that I couldn't prove how important this time was for me, too? But everyone needs to have an identity, a license. I needed to be allowed. I had no license to belong.
With loss, despair dives quickly. Logic is lost in panic and feeling left out forces retreat. Embraces of arms and reassuring words pulled me to reality. Words whispered into my ears and mind that had slammed shut from fear of onslaught of the same painful NO.
Another way. Another path. That was the offer. The answer was not perfect but viable. Tears cleansed the corners of my mind as they peaked at the plausible joy like a new sun glints light in a dark tunnel. A misty path grew clearer.
Grace was the license for this failing mom. Simple solutions from my nephew were God's breath of hope drying my cheeks. His whispers that He would make a way because I belonged to this day, this son's moment.
Reminded. Overwhelmed. Joy returned. Communion was sweet!
Comments
Otherwise, marvelous darling. - love your sis
This had to be written by my daudhter!!
Nice work Cherie, Dad