HIS MOTHER LOVES DRAGONS
by Linda Anderson Krech
The day before our recent residential program was about to begin, I had a great number of errands to take care of. I left early in the morning, undaunted by the length of my various lists, which I carefully arranged on the passenger seat next to me.
I had a plan that was logistically sound, which, to be honest, included an initial stop at Dunkin Donuts. I thought that a reward was called for and would be helpful, but since I hadn’t done any of the errands yet, I was really giving myself a preward. I liked the idea of that.
After waiting quite some time to receive my preward, I was told by a flustered woman behind the counter that their machine had just died and they could not make any hot drinks until it was fixed. I wished her well and immediately began wondering where else I might go, when I encountered a second surprise before even leaving the store.
As I was trying to walk out of the door, a young man was walking in at the same time, and he was talking, I soon realized, to me.
“Um . . . ma’am, I think you may have a flat tire.”
What?? Who was this person? I don’t have a flat tire. How would he even know which car was mine? Has he been following me?
Then I remembered passing him outside – when I was walking into the store he was walking out. He must have noticed a problem with my tire (which I had not noticed) and took the initiative to come back in and tell me about it.
He walked out with me to look at the car, and I could see that he was right. My back tire was noticeably low. In fact, he called it a flat tire, but I wouldn’t go that far. I had big plans for the day, and there was no room for a flat tire. He thought with me about where I might go to get some air and have it looked at, if need be. I thanked him for taking the time to come into the store to tell me about this, and for helping me think about what to do next.
I sat in the car for a few moments, collecting my thoughts, and catching up with myself – without a cappuccino and with the addition of a car problem I hadn’t anticipated. Suddenly I heard a knock on the window. It was my tire pal, with a little electric air pump in his hand. “Do you want me to see if I can pump it up a little?” he asked.
So for the next 15 minutes he tried, unsuccessfully, to fill my tire from this pump that he always kept in his car. During this time, while chatting, I couldn’t help but notice the elaborate tattoos that covered both of his arms.
I always have the same thought when I see someone who is heavily tattooed. The thought is: “I wonder what their mom thought when she first saw the tattoos”. To use your skin as a canvas for permanent artwork is something I haven’t completely adapted to yet and I wonder how it is for other moms.
I commented to him about the tattoo on his right arm, which was quite intricate and beautiful and he said, “Oh, thanks. That’s a dragon. I got that for my mom because she loves dragons.”
I paused, taking in this information.
“Wow, that’s very special, I said. “I hope she likes it.”
“Oh, yea, she really loves it”, he told me, with a great sense of pride.
I told him that his mom must have done a very good job with him because he was so kind and thoughtful, and I asked him to thank her for me. He gave me the sweetest smile, which turned out to be the best preward I could get, giving me a little boost all through the long and complicated day. No cappuccino needed.
