Right there at the fish counter of my grocery store, I had this overwhelming pang that I was feeling a quart low of love. No, that’s not right. Not a quart low of feeling LOVE. More like a quart low of WITNESSING love. I was witnessing a lot of pain and a lot of alone and a lot of neglect around me.
As I waited for the fishmonger to wrap up my shrimp, my thoughts turned to three very different conversations with three brilliant women the day before that all culminated into one strange and mysterious point:
You are surrounded by guides, guardians and angels.
We all are.
But if you wish for support, you must ask for it.
Because of free will, they will not just show up.
They are waiting to be asked. Petition them clearly.
And then watch what happens next.
Hey Guides. TG here. I would love to witness an act of love please. It would mean something like everything to me right now.
And with that, I turned away from the fish counter and almost ran over an elderly man with my cart.
The same old man with a walker that I had impatiently tried to pass earlier as I was entering the store, my shopping list burning a hole in my hand and a day’s worth of to-dos to wrap up in four scant hours.
"If you wish for support,
you must ask for it!"
He gestured to the shrimp in my cart excitedly.
“So good. SO GOOD!” he exclaimed with a heavy Italian accent.
Yes, yes they are, I replied politely, totally captivated by the light that still danced in his milky eyes.
He told me that he liked them because they were soft on his sore teeth. He proceeded to tell me how he liked to prepare his shrimp. (This seems to be a recurring theme for me...being explained in great and elaborate detail how to prepare fish by elderly Italian folks.)
He then told me about his wife, his son. He showed me the missing basket on his walker. A cab driver didn’t return it. He was cross at first, but hey, we all make mistakes, he shrugged.
He told me he had had a good life. And that he was ready to go. But first, shrimp, he laughed.
I told him I was preparing shrimp just like he said, for my own father with sore teeth.
You are good woman of love. An angel, I think, he said. And took my hand. I didn’t want to let go.
But when I did, I reached over to give him a hug.
It’s only love that matters.
And please don’t forget. Ever.
Ask for what you need.