The troubles that chase you away also show you the road.
-- Kigezi proverb

Taking a deep and frustrated breath, she slowly placed the key in the lock. She could imagine what was on the other side. It would be dark, probably cold, and there’d probably be a smell. She had no idea how long it’d been that way on the other side of the door, but she knew once she walked inside, things were going to require her attention.

As she stood there, she tried to calculate how things had come to this. She knew she’d been neglectful, sometimes flippant about making sure the edges of her life weren’t frayed, at least not so frayed that others could see them that way. Did others see, she wondered. Could they tell it was all a bit out of control? Somewhat overwhelming? She looked around at her neighbor’s homes to notice if anyone else could have possibly been in her predicament. She looked even closer to see whether they could be peeking at her through closed blinds and drawn curtains. She noticed no one.

What she did notice though was the tug of her coat and her little one’s voice saying over and over, “mama, gotta go pot!” She imagined her baby boy “going to pot” right there on their porch in his undies. She also imagined stepping inside, in the dark, wading her way through the morning’s left over rush, and quickly getting him to the bathroom. But unlocking the door and stepping over this threshold was too much reality for her right now. So, weighing her options, she yelled at baby boy, “just go pot then!”

And hearing him cry from her yell didn’t make this any easier. She sighed, leaned against the door, watched his confused and contorted face, and slowly began to let out a few sobs of her own. “God,” she asked, “what is it you want me to know right now? What is it you want me to do? Here I am. I’m listening.” She took a seat on the cold, cement steps and listened through the night’s wind.

She heard the wind chimes, a plane overhead. She heard the millions of thoughts whirling in her head. She heard herself breathing and her heart beating.

She felt the cool breeze on her neck, the cold of the cement on her bottom. She felt baby boy’s confusion, his wonder at not going inside, and his fear of asking the questions. She reached for his little hand and pulled him to her, feeling him ease into her as he always did.

In the peacefulness of that moment, listening to the wind and rubbing her baby’s hand, it all became clearer. This moment is life, just like every other moment she’d been blessed with. And it was the moments of life that were passing her by. When was the last time she listened to the wind? When was the last time she was this still? When was the last time she’d tuned in to her baby boy? How much had she missed because she’d not stopped or slowed down and paid attention?

She sat thinking long and hard, not about all that she’d missed. She always thought about what she was missing and how she could make up for it next time. Instead, she thought about never missing out again, turning it all around, facing her fears, and making peace with her demons. She thought about being honest with herself, treating herself with respect, being a better example to her son about how to be the best steward of all that was given to her. She’d grown so accustomed to just denying it all or living with it that it was difficult to imagine it all healed, lifted, and gone. But the wind whispered to her and the chime rang for her and in them she heard confirmation that the moments of life were meant to be walked courageously, intentionally, and with care. Holding her man-child, she knew she had no other choice.

She stood, lifting her now wet boy and turned the key in the door. She opened it and found a house not so dark – the full moon was shining through the back window; not so cold – the heat that rises to the ceiling had fallen comfortably throughout; and not so smelly – the food in the frig had not rotted. The morning’s rush mess was not so bad and baby boy was actually asleep. She’d call the electric company shortly, pay the bill over the phone, and they’d reconnect her tonight. In the meantime, she’d clean baby boy and put him in his bed, light a candle, take stock in this teachable moment, and never let another one pass her by.

Sadiqqa © 2008