STRONG

Oh Social Services, you seem like such a small part of my daily life down here.  One morning a week as a caseworker and one student for School on Wheels.  Such a small commitment, such a huge emotional experience.  This morning I had a client come in.  Her name was Esperanza.*  She’s in her 40’s.  Her daughter was with her.  Esperanza appeared to have some physical problems and to be in pain.  I would venture a guess to say maybe multiple sclerosis or fibromyalgia or arthritis or lupus.  It’s hard to tell.  Her daughter stood behind her mother with her hands on her shoulders—supporting her.  Esperanza doesn’t speak English and probably doesn’t have a driver’s license.  In some cases her daughter is her lifeline to the community. 

A daughter about my age. 

Would I be able to be that lifeline for my parents?  Or would I be too selfish. . .unwilling to give up “my life?”  I thought about how strong Esperanza’s daughter is.  Then on their way out I saw the daughter’s tattoos—“Strong” on her right chest, “Esperanza” on her left chest.  I don’t know their whole story but I could feel the mutual love and respect between these two and it was deep—damn it was deep. 

Then I saw them at Walgreens later today.  I might not have given them a second thought, but seeing them stirred up all of my thoughts.  Brought them to the front of my mind after they had been jumbled up with all of my clients from the morning. If I hadn’t needed body wash, floss, and tape I wouldn’t have had these insights and thoughts and meditation.  I would not have been affected in this way.  Coincidence? I don’t think so,

Peace Out

Love,

Babs

*Client's name has been changed.