I think a lot about who I am to other people in the worldāparticular who I am to strangers as a mere concept in their lives.
Today this woman called our information desk and said,Ā āmy sonās band is playing tonight. I want to come see him, but he never answers his phoneā¦..I want to be there. Have you heard anything about his band?ā
And I felt so bad for this lady but Iām not in the music scene around here so I had to tell her no, sorry.
Five hours later, Iām hiking and run into a group of guys setting up for some outdoor performance, and as I watch them unload the drums it hits me.
āHey,ā I said,Ā āare yāall in a band?ā
They said yeah and smiled and I told themĀ āone of your moms called today. She wants to watch you play, but she canāt get a hold of you. Call your mom.ā
And they all pulled out their phones and started discussing whose mom it probably was as they presumably dialed their own.
And now, unless we meet again and recognize each other, thatās who Iāll be forever to those guysāsome mysterious courier for mom-messages who came out of the woods and told them their mom called.
I didnāt even tell them why their mom called me. Who am I to their mom?? Nobody even asked. They just took my word for it and called their mothers.
andulkaphoto
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theartofmadeline
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