His Hands, Not Mine

My second departure from the island. So glad I came. As I lay in a deep sleep in my oasis in R-3, I did not see or hear the man who, by the time I woke up, was already in the middle of the room. Looking him right in the eyes, I felt, "This is it, after fifteen years of working alone, I'm going to be robbed or raped." The man was not just odd, he represented every reason why I wanted my boys off the place. I tried hard not to judge him just because he was not of the same school of thought as me. He might as well have robbed me or raped me for when he left I felt that I had done something wrong. My urge to call my oldest son won out even though I had grown enough that I could live without dumping on people. The phone rang three or four times and I hoped he wouldn't answer. Hello? Hello? Hi. Hi. How's it going? Fine. Take a plane over and have dinner with me, I said. I would but I'm just now taking a shower to go out to dinner. Oh, that's nice. Jay, do you know this guy.... I tried to describe him. It didn't ring a bell with him. Finally, I just said it: "The guy gives me the creeps." Jay said, "What do you think? They're all like me?" O.K. I said. "Have a nice dinner." See you soon. Love you. Love you, too. I felt a little better. Tom stopped by to pick up dinner and I took him hostage, too. I went all through my story about how the guy had made me uncomfortable and that I didn't care if I ever went to Block Island again. He's one man, said Tom. "He doesn't represent all of island life." My intellect was now leading over my emotions. Thank you God. Tuesday morning came and, while more people were going back to work after the long Memorial Day Weekend holiday, I set my sights on hopping the early boat. The sun was shining, the temperatures were rising, and a great cup of black smack was in my hand. On the way over, I found myself not only a warm spot, but someone to chat with also. On arrival, I stopped and had my favorite breakfast of baked apple, coffee, and bagel with homemade apricot jam. I walked up and sat in front of the bank where surely anyone of any importance would pass by the first morning after a holiday. And someone very important did pass by, my youngest son, tall and handsome, holding hands with a young lady. Sean! I yelled. Is that you, Mom? You turn up in the funniest places.Holding hands with a girl, the Tuesday morning after a long holiday weekend is truly a heartening sight. Later I met up with my oldest son who was busy and had the mature courtesy to tell me so. There was a time when he couldn't tell me and also a time when I would have been hurt. My second son I never did run into. I'm sure he was in the right place, his God's place. So my motherly instincts were not in bondage of fear for him. I dropped a book off to a friend, purchased a hot fudge sundae for the journey home and took leave of Block Island and all God's children who live there in His hands. In His hands, so that mine might be free to do His will.

Copyright; Ruth Mahoney July, 1988