Yesterday was one of lessons and deep sharing, some of them quite profound and cosmic in the nature of their expansion. The one I wish to share though could have been missed in the grandeur of the vastness. Indulge me to share.
The late afternoon sun was just beginning to decline in the blazing blue sky as we crossed the cobble stone street, holding onto my right hand was a small one, my granddaughter’s warmth radiating into my palm. On her other side my daughter holds her other hand.
Beckoning us on the hot afternoon was the traditional ice cream stand strategically located on a busy street corner. The pink tarp strung up to shade the tin containers embedded in salted ice added a pink glow to the shade it cast.
Reading the list of flavors from the hand written list we giggled at the ingeniousness of Mexican creativity; tequila, Ferrero Rocher, avocado, garambullo, guanabana flavors intermingled with the traditional chocolate, vanilla and strawberry. Offering to buy my granddaughter an ice cream in a plastic cup she fixated on the sugar cones displayed in a glass case at her eye level. I want a cone she says, her voice carrying the stomp of a foot. Calmly her mother explained that she couldn’t have a cone because it would spoil her appetite for her soon to be served dinner. Stubbornness set in, her head glued to the glass pane she refused to budge.
Choices were offered, we can go home now without ice cream or you can have a small serving in a cup. No! determined in her nature she wouldn’t compromise. My daughter in the wisdom of motherhood gently restated her reasons and offered again the two choices available. Now the tears flow, wetting the glass holding the displayed sugar cones. We wait, the moment stretches.
Gently I suggest lets go sit on the bench under the shade of the tree nearby. A defeated seven year old buries her face into her mother’s lap, sobbing big crocodile tears. Mom instinctively knows, she waits a bit then she says “Oh look now you have wet my dress and people will think I have peed my pants.” A little body releases as a bubble of laughter surfaces, she can’t hang on to the grief of loss now, she valiantly tries though. I wait a moment longer and ask the back of her head covered in disarrayed blond curls, “Did you want mango? The head shakes no. Um? Was it cookie you wanted? The head nods yes.
Ah, the crisis has passed and a child with big wet eyes stares at her Amma while licking the fast melting ice cream. She smiles.
Deepening into the experience I see the blossoming of a three roses, each one nestled in the other and yet separate. A little girl learns she is loved even when having a tantrum, a mother through love takes care of her child and a grandmother looks on in contentment and wonder.
The field is deep and wide in one moment of eternity.