Sofia Stories

The Camel-haired Boy

Dear Sofia,

I am sitting at the airport. I have a 5 hour flight delay. 

There is a full moon.

I need to get where I am going. There is a friend.

I am reminded this is a tiny setback. And so I breathe.

I am reminded: appreciate all the times when things are smooth, when your life is comfortable. There is a woman getting a harrowing diagnosis right now. This is nothing. 

I breathe more deeply. 

I am learning about patience. Over and over again. The hard way.

A delay is a delay. Nothing more. Things have their timing.

I know I know, I want to say to the sky.

I am reminded to be grateful.  

I am grateful, I say to myself. 

I say it again, this time without the sarcasm.

I sit at a table. I am in the Nathan's hotdog zone with a cup of hot water for my tea. 

I begin to do work on my computer.

I have music on with headsets. The world around me begins to disappear.

Suddenly- a little face comes up close with mine. Too close.

I show my surprise and hold my breath. 

It is a boy, your age, maybe younger. 

He has camel-colored hair. He is talking but I can't hear him. He is so close to me. 

I take off my headsets.

Hi, I say. It is what I say when I don't know what to say.

Hi, he says back. 

I look for a parent. I see a father watching. I want this father to say, Son, leave the lady alone, she's busy.

I am busy. Too busy. All week running around from different jobs. Traveling. I need to get back to my work.

But the boy with the camel-colored hair interrupts my thoughts.  

I ate bread and egg for breakfast today, he says.

Nice, I say. I think this must be a scam. Is the father trying to hit on me? Is he selling something?

What are you eating? He points to the aluminum foil on my table. 

And for some reason this makes me relax. And I know this is no scam.

It is bread and egg, I say.

Do you have cheese on it? he asks.  

No, I say.

Me neither! He is excited about our bread and egg with no cheese connection.

I'm allergic to cheese and to milk and to sooooooo many things. He says this emphatically. Are you?

I look him in his eyes now, they are a deep dark brown.

No, I'm not, I say. Almost wanting to lie so that we can talk more about it. About our allergies.

Oh.

He still likes me though.

He tells me about the day they told him he was allergic to soooooo many things. His arms reach up, his eyes move from side to side.

I was worried! he says. I thought, will there be enough food in the world for me? 

But then, he continues, I found out there was Chinese food and Jewish food and Japanese food. And I can can eat that!

His father laughs at this. He is a good father.

There is food in the world for me! He is laughing, exalted.

He brings his arms down. He smiles big and bright.

During the brief silence I wonder, Would I have let you, Sofs, talk to someone like this? Would I not have pulled you away, or said, Leave the nice lady alone, she's busy?  Had you stopped going up to people entirely because I'd told you not to, so many times? 

I feel sad about this.

But, the camel-haired boy is still talking. He is saying some things now that don't make sense. I wonder if he has a diagnosis. I think, He probably does, by the gentleness with which his father watches him. Completely free from annoyance. Unfazed by any sense of impatience.

It is like this father knows he may not be here forever.

Softly, his father says, it's time to go.

The boy lifts his backpack and looks at me.

Bye, I say, because I don't know what else to say.

Bye, he says back.

He is almost out of my view but he runs back to me.

And then, loudly, so that many people can hear, he says, I really hope I get to see you again. I don't think I ever will, but I really hope I do.

I blow him a kiss.

He blows me a kiss back.

And he is gone.

He leaves and I am bursting with love. For him. For you. For every single person.

A lady and her friend near me says, That was so beautiful, what that boy said to you. How darling.

Love is everywhere.

If I had not be delayed, I would not have met him, this child that I would probably never see again, who cracked my heart open.

Once again. Like a coconut in my grandmother's yard cracked open so the juice can flow out.

I fall out of myself. Out of my own constraint.

Sofs, treat every moment like this father with his son. As if it is fleeting.

With softness, without impatience. With wonder.

Watch this oyster of a world and look for the pearl she is waiting to share.

It's like this.

Why do we cross paths with the people we do? Why?

I don't know.

But I know that with every moment I allow myself to truly experience, I expand.

And the delays in life--give me the much needed time to do this.

If you do not slow down, the world will slow you down.

Be grateful for it.

There is plenty of food in this world for you.

And it may come in the form of a gregarious little boy with camel-colored hair.

Who knows how it will come. That's the fun part.

And when you find it.

Let it crack you wide open.

Because none of us will be here forever.

Ma

p.s. I found a poem: 

"Tenderly, I now touch all 

things,

Knowing one day we will part."

(St. John of the Cross)

The Garden of Eden

 

 

Dear Sofia,

I just returned from being in the Garden of Eden (Big Sur, CA).

And yes, they had to throw me out, once again.

While I was away, you’d gone down to Miami with your grandmother in the hopes that you would get to see the birth of your first baby girl cousin.

The only glitch is that this baby has decided that she’s perfectly happy to stay inside of your aunt/my sister’s belly.

It feels like only yesterday that I was awaiting my sister’s arrival from my mom’s belly. The excitement of that night! I had had my little yellow, red, and blue Sesame Street suitcase packed for weeks.

I worried about some things, like whether this baby would like me. What she would look like. And if she had the capacity to be the student I needed her to be in my already-planned endless games of teacher/school that I had mapped out.

I had the chalkboard ready. (Poor girl)

And I had decided that no one, except for me, could ever touch her head.

(This led to much heartache.)

And here we are, 30 or so years later, waiting for my little sister’s little girl (L) to be born.

Your job, down in Miami , was to entertain L’s two year-old brother, M, whom you adore. And apparently you guys had been having a lot of fun. Perhaps too much fun. As you woke up your 41-week-pregnant aunt one too many early mornings.

It’s not just that you woke her up, it’s that you were both screaming/singing Shabbat Shalom.

Last night, our first night back together, you cuddled up to me and squeezed me tightly into you.

Mommy, do you know why I squeeze you so tight?

Why, love?

I’m trying to get back inside of you.

And once again, you took my breath away.

Later, after you were in your bed and I could think about what you said, I realized that actually, in life, we are all trying to get back inside that state of pure rest and peace that we had inside of our mother’s bellies. Sometimes we get it by lying bare-skinned on the warm sand as the ocean flows over us, and sometimes it’s through chocolate, and sometimes it's in the embrace of the ones we love.

But really, it seems that this is what we are always trying to find-- in one way or another.

We all do.

And you and M were on to something with your early morning singing of Shabbat Shalom.

Shabbat means: the day to cease work, the seventh day. Put simply it is that we should take some time to be and not do.

And Shalom means peace.  Shalom as a verb is to make whole, the noun is to be in a state of wholeness.

That’s what we feel in our mother’s womb, a state of pure wholeness, of peace, of being. 

And this is what we spend our whole lives seeking.

It’s no wonder baby L wants to stay in!

Despite the fact that we are all ready for her to get here.

But we have to remember that there is no forcing the divine timing of life.

We may not understand why things happen or don’t the way they do.

And sometimes we have really great plans that don’t work out.

But we have to believe that there is a natural harmony to the timing.

In any case, Sofs, let’s whisper to L, about how wonderful it is out here. Let’s tell her about the wildflowers and baby penguins. Let’s tell her of the rivers that flow off of rocks and rumble into the deep grey ocean. About the people that sing and make music, and about the beautiful ring of authentic laughter.

Let’s tell her about the warmth of the sun and the shine of the moon.

Let’s whisper to her, “L, you will always be loved and held in this state of peace.” 

And let’s remind her, that whenever she wants, she can return to that place. 

By being silent and going inside herself she’ll find an everlasting Shabbat Shalom.

As we all can.

Love,

Ma

p.s. This is the true Garden of Eden