Streams of Comfort

No.
He stood and left the shop. Vowing never to return. She could not do this again and expect to have a different outcome. Life doesn’t work that way.
He walked past the door and could not hear if this shop had a doorbell. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t the type of person to run when an obstacle appeared in his path. Living as a deaf person taught him there’s no running from oneself. Yet, that auburn hair streaked with grey made him want to disappear. If only to not be the person that was hurt indefinitely. Irreparably.
They preach the importance of forgiveness in the church the man attends. As he’s sure they do in every church. He’s made it a point then to never be in a position to have to be forgiven. Or to have to forgive. That’s why he moves on so fast and never stays longer than a few months. Of course, no plan is perfect. He’s had to forgive his mailman for leaving his packages out in the rain sometimes.
When he was younger and he could hear still, he remembered his mother always asking his father for forgiveness. “Sorry for coming home so late”, “Sorry for not having dinner ready”, “Sorry for not being a good wife.” He never heard his father’s replies and one day he passed away from the same fever that took his hearing. He could almost pretend he could hear his mother say, “Sorry.” He knew that sound more than his own name.
As the man kept walking home, he felt the rain drops tickle his nose. He heard a voice in his head whisper, “Turn around.”
Not inclined to listen to any voices besides his own, he kept his forward pace. The rain picked up harder. He heard the voice once more. At an intersection, he had to stop, and, in that moment, he looked back for a second.
The auburn hair, now matted to the face of an older version of the woman he once knew as mother, was there. She had followed him. With tears or rain in her eyes, he did not care. Before he could look away, she signed something. So fast only his years of experience could have discerned what she said. “I love you. Don’t go.”
He felt dizzy suddenly. Rooted to the spot like he was years ago. When he was the one saying those words. It felt like a sick joke that she would use those words. His human reaction was to storm away, fuming. Hurt once more.
He started to turn away from those grey eyes, he wished were alien, when he felt a stirring telling him to stay. At this point, he was tired. Tired of feeling angry and bitter. Of holding it all into the point that it changed his life and not for the better. He was reminded of the fruits of spirit. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control. Things that hadn’t flowed through his heart in a long time because he hadn’t let them.
It was time to change that.
The power that held him back from truly living all these years, seemed to loosen its grip. He signed to his mother, “Come. Let’s get out of the rain.”

Alice R. 4/4/24