Today I had a lot of time to think, I suppose that’s because the store was not overly busy...even though the new game “Boarderlands” came out, the store was pretty much dead. So, with time on my hands and nothing else to do, I found myself pondering. Not about the regular things like, “Gee, what did I have for breakfast again, ‘cause I’m hungry”, “I wonder if that guy is ‘gunna buy anything....Nope, guess not”, or even the occasional “Gawd I am tired”; naw, today was more about complexity. Normally I’d let you all into the dark little world that is my mind, but today I feel like sharing a story instead.

She came into our quiet store politely asking if we had a particular game in stock; I took it upon myself to help her out, since I had nothing else to do at the time and it was for a gift. As I talked to her, I noticed the heavy purple bags set underneath her eyes and the way she tiredly walked about the store. Seeing this, I was both slightly confused and concerned. Said nothing about it of course, it was none of my business. So we found the game she was looking for together. She told me her story. Over something as simple as a videogame for a gift, she told me her struggle.

Her son is seventeen years old.
He has light sensitivity.
He has seizures.
He can only stay in his room all day.
He has a rare-brain tumour.
He might not make it.

He might not make it. That’s what she said, those where the words out of this mother’s mouth. This seventeen year old boy, so young, who could have so much potential in life, might not make it. She told me that the doctors at the Children’s hospital did not believe that this young boy had what he did. This mother, with the large bags under her eyes and the tired walk, was told that her son was “faking his illness for attention.” A scan from another doctor revealed the rare tumour that positions itself in the center of the brain. The very center. I did not know what to say, how to react, how to do anything. I just stood there quietly, put the game and receipt into the bag like every good robot employee, but I just stood there. She broke the silence by saying that her family is going to be on the news shortly, because the news would help them fundraise enough money to go to the United States to have the surgery. She then asked if we knew where we could find a particular store, I said I had a map I could give her.

I walked into the backroom.
I grabbed the map I had from my purse.
-and I slipped a twenty dollar bill into the map, the only money I had.

When I handed it to her, she thought it had accidently ended up wedged between the folds of the map. When I told her, “I wish you all the best with your fundraiser” she understood everything.

She hugged me, in the quiet store.
As she walked away, through the window I saw tears.

I walked into the back for a second time; and I let go. I cried because of my selfishness, this Peter-Pan complex that I’ve developed. My selfishness because I don’t want to age, and a young adult that might not even have that opportunity. I cried because of the mother, a parent who had been living on the edge for quite some time, a mother who had been told that her son was faking, one who was struggling but yet had the strength to tell a total stranger her life. I stopped crying.

I realize now what I am going to do.
-and nothing, absolutely nothing will get in my way.

Today was quiet, I had lots of time to think.