Wishing you a week of surprises and sunshine

Cowboy.

A few weeks back I received my first piece of hate mail. It’s fair to say that I wasn’t all that surprised (or hurt).

The day the letter arrived, started with a text to say that I had some mail at the newspaper office. I was intrigued, a bit leery, but mostly curious and excited. I’d been wanting to introduce a friend to my favourite Editor for a while, and this was the perfect opportunity, as she and I had planned a lunch date that day, so we could easily stop by his office on our way.

It was a chance to connect and have a bit of an adventure, on a workday. After all, I was wearing my new t-shirt, and too, I rarely miss a chance to have a lunch date in the heart of my city.

The roadways were busy that day, the sun was, as it should be, shining as the two of us, and the letter (addressed to me, in care of the paper) tucked neatly in my purse, headed downtown.

We chatted and giggled at what the letter might say, or who may have written it and taken the time to send it to me on our way through the streets.

Once downtown, we parked and started to walk, and she said ‘What about Sabai?’, only steps away from its entrance. My answer was, ‘Yes!’

I like to leave these choices to her, as she has a way of choosing things that brings what is meant to be mine, a little closer to me, and well, I really like to be surprised.

So in we walked, both smiling gleefully, she making sure to request a quick lunch, and me at her side in my new t-shirt. It was as she spoke those words to the lovely owner that I turned my head to see a man dressed in a cowboy hat, western shirt and jeans, seated just down from where we stood.

I instantly stiffened and wondered what he thought of my top as he gazed up at me from his table and his meal.

I had been looking for the better part of a year for a fun t-shirt to wear, a challenge as the many options with ‘free spirit or gypsy’ scrolled across them just don’t seem to be a fit – however much I’d like them to be.

Instead, weeks ago, I chose a plain white t-shirt with ‘I wanna be a cowboy’ glibly written in a simple black font across it. A bit risky, I know. But, a good fit for me.

In an entire year living in the city, I have yet to run across a cowboy wearing a cowboy hat. And now here I stood and there he was. ‘Great timing on the t-shirt’, I said to myself. Honestly, if I could have rolled my eyes inwardly without anyone seeing I would have.

We headed to our booth seat. I took the envelope and opened it up, pulling the neatly folded letter out and we both smiled as I laid it out on the table to read.

Within a few words, I knew, this definitely wasn’t fan mail. ‘ Don’t read anymore’, my friend said while looking concerned and softly moving the now folded letter close to her and away from me. I thought for a minute and then said, ‘Let’s finish it’.

I am glad to have read it. It’s always a good idea to hear someone out and then decide what to think.

We finished and folded the contents of the letter back up, neatly inserting them back into the envelope. She was concerned that I’d be hurt. I wasn’t. I had to read it, and he had to say it. And now it was over.

I smiled at her, taking the note from her hands into mine and then promptly headed off to the bathroom to dispose of it.

It was then that I saw the cowboy again, I smiled and continued on my way, returning to the table without the letter.

This same friend has shared with me many times something she learned from her Mom - and that is - hurt people, hurt people.

Sometimes our hurt bubbles out, and maybe that’s what happened with the writer of the letter. We all start out loving, I know that much. So I wish him well.

As I write this piece, I am sitting on my front step atop a pillow from my couch, a cow skull with succulents growing in it is at my side, it is raining, birds are chirping, my boys are safe and happy indoors, and I am content knowing that I write for me, for you, for us – with only the best intentions for all of us, together. I hope we all live better, happier, more deeply connected lives that are simple and full of love, with only temporary bits of anger, mistrust, judgement and sadness.

And yes, I do write about me, for you, unapologetically. Oh, and to the cowboy at Sabai – I hope our paths cross again (and that you read this story) – as you made me think of other things than hurt, anger and vengeance, at a time when it would be easy to feel all of those things, and too, you reminded me that timing is everything.

And yeah, I still wanna be a cowboy. Go figure.