Perhaps I shouldn’t be the one posting this since I am not a mother, but then on the other hand maybe that’s precisely the reason why I should post it because I watched all my friends go through all the different stages. I am a witness, this all is true!
I always have great projects in my workroom, but some are just more special than others. It’s either the past, which speaks to me through the pieces, or I fall head over heels in love with customers and their story.
“Happy Mother’s Day,” he said, looked at me and gave me the receipt. He meant well, so do all the others, wishing me the same thing over and over since years. Now I just smile politely, a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes and everybody who knows me, would notice. The strangers in the stores they don’t know me, they don’t notice. How could they? It’s their job to be polite to customers. They mean no harm. The younger ones, who don’t have children, think about their own mothers. The older ones, who have children smile, think about their own kids. It’s natural…so it seems.