ordinary

It’s Friday night, 3 days before Christmas and I have to go out to pick up a gift at circuit city. I hate the box stores but it’s the only place where I can find this. So I leave Jorg with some of my precious pumped breast milk and head out into the unusually mild night. It’s dark and raining. It makes me sad that we haven’t had any snow yet and while driving the 15 minutes to Williston, I trace it all back to our consumerist lifestyle. I have an urge not to go to circuit city, not to buy this thing. But it’s too late. I already paid for it over the internet. I pull into circuit city. There are mounds of people. Nobody really looks like they are having fun. Duty shopping. Guilt shopping. I go to the pick up desk. There is a man behind the counter. He is probably in his late 30s or early 40s. His name tag reads Victor. He looks like a nice person. He is tidy, his red circuit city shirt tucked carefully in. He’s cordial, even keeled as he types in the necessary information. He doesn’t seem bothered by the rush of the holidays, the florescent lights the incessant Christmas music blaring forced cheer. I start to wonder about him, how he got here, who he is, what he wanted to be when he grew up. Then I think of his mother. Somewhere he has a mother and she has loved him. She carried him around inside her. She dreamed of him. She labored for him and held him in her arms and wondered who this little person would be. She named him Victor. Now here he is in front of me. He is just a man to me. I have to ask myself, am I really ready to let Lukas grow up in this world. In a world where he can possibly become ordinary. He is so special to me. He is so special. I suppose Victor is still special to his mother. Perhaps that is what mothers are for.