Lessons I wish I could go back to learn.

In another lifetime I used to get a daily customer who had the traditional pierced lobes with a ring to stretch it.

Over the years I saw the lobes stretched bigger and bigger to fit an ever larger ring.

At this stage I would often fein admiration, and he appreciated that I noticed.

I say I "feigned" appreciation, but the truth was a little more complicated. I was intrigued and curious. Did it pain? How did he know when to go on to the next sized ring. How did they take off the old one? When did he start? Was it something he got into on his own, or was it some kind of family tradition? I didn't have the time or the language skills to engage with him and find out. He came in and took his tobacco and left. I didn't want it to get weird.

Then I didn't see him for a few days and when he next came into the shop he was shifty and clearly uncomfortable. When I greeted him as I usually did making some compliment about his "wheels" , I saw from his face that he was trying to hide some deep emotion.

Then I saw it. 

His left lobe had snapped, hanging loosely like a limp finger, and he was devastated. I tried to recover the conversation but clearly his loss was too fresh and he was hurting.

I often think about that man.

I never caught his name, but his grief is etched into my mind and it stays with me. When I push too hard I often pull back, afraid of going too far. Breaking something that can't be fixed.

How I wish I could go back and speak to him and get all the answers I need.

M Parak

Sept 2020