(Last week: Chartan takes his family for a walk along the sand dunes where he once went for meditation after losing his parents in an accident.)
Chartan sat on the beach blanket watching his wife walking back and forth with their infant against her chest. She was reciting a nursery rhyme–—he thought it was the “patty cake” one. It was nearing sunset and everyone was reddish from the sun—even Jake, who had been covered, had red streaks on his ankles.
He was about to yell out, “Let’s go,” when an inner voice told him to wait. It was the nearly inaudible sound that had guided him in presenting his Life Restoration classes, but had left after he met Gina.
It was a soft ‘wait’ not accompanied by any other explanation, but clearly a word loaded with meaning. If they started packing, he’d become captive to chores. Don’t forget anything. Last bathroom break. I can’t find my keys.
He closed his eyes and waited for inspiration. Maybe that was the significance of ‘wait’? The thoughts were not clear, more a combination of wanting to teach again and driving for only selected clients, people he might converse with and share ideas. Yes, that was it, take advantage of his popularity and instruct Sloan that he’ll only drive for clients on his personal approval list. But wasn’t that elitist? What if he dismissed a client in need of wise counsel? Scratch that thought. The internal shouting turned to high frequency static. He opened his eyes. Gina was holding Jake three inches from his face. The boys dark blue eyes were riveted on him.
First steps followed by the first “daddy” all in the same day. Jake had been calling Gina “mommy” for over two months while his father was “up me,” which Chartan took to be a command, not recognition. The delay had bothered Chartan slightly, but there were so many other things to worry about that he had pushed the matter aside.
Maybe ‘wait’ was simply waiting for Jake to be ready. I’ve been too rushed. I need patience. If I slow down, I will regain the power of focus.
To be continued next Sunday…