Baka's Wish
(page 5)
Mara picked up the pitcher from the table and poured a glass of water for the stranger. “Here’s your water,” said Mara as she handed it to him.
“Yes,” said the stranger. “Thank you,” He took a small sip, then dabbed his lip with the back of his finger.
“Are you happy… spinning yarn, that is?” he asked.
“Me? Happy?" she thought. "I don’t know. It’s work.”
There was silence for a moment as the stranger sipped his water and Mara tapped her fingertips on the table.
“Are you happy?” Mara asked the stranger, trying to think of something to say. She felt a bit out of place, daring to engage this strange, educated gentleman in conversation.
The stranger took another sip from the glass. He seemed weary and parched, and from the dust on his shoes, it looked like he’d indeed been traveling a long time on foot.
“I’m not sure if it’s my place,” he joked. He wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, then methodically refolded it. “It depends, I suppose on whether you’re asking if I’m joyful and gay most of the time or whether I’m just content,” he said. “In general, I’d have to say that I’m content and occasionally joyful.” He tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.
Mara refilled his glass.
“Let me ask you a different question then,” smiled the stranger. “When you spin, are you content?”
Mara thought for a moment. She had actually never thought about whether she was content or not. Baka had never talked about contentment, really. “What can I do?” Baka would say. “This is what needs to be done." Contentment, to Baka, meant not complaining.
Could a person who spends all day spinning, washing clothes and cooking food really have the luxury of questioning whether or not they were content? Laundry needs cleaning and dinner needs cooking. It’s as simple as that. Who thinks about being content? Being discontented would mean that you had options, that you could change something and so you could become content.
“Spinning?” she thought out loud. “I suppose I’m content,” she answered. “It feels good to see things get done.”
“Do you ever hum a tune when you spin?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Does it make you happy?”
“I suppose.”
“When there’s a wedding and the band plays and people are dancing in a circle, and you want to jump into the circle to dance with them because it looks like fun, do you?”
“Of course. Well… sometimes.” she answered.
“Then I suppose that on occasion you’ve wished that you were at that wedding, dancing in the circle rather than doing your spinning because it would make you happy.”
“Well, I… yes.”
“Then wishing for your happiness is something that people naturally do. It isn’t only God’s decision. It’s everyone’s. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Well, if you say it that way…” she thought.
“It’s normal to want to be happy,” said the stranger. “Why would God mind? He’s busy doing other things.”
He put the glass down on the table.
“I need to go,” said the stranger. “I thank you for your kindness, the water and the stimulating conversation. Which way is it to the monestary?”
“It’s that way,” she pointed.
The stranger gracefully bowed to Mara as if she were a countess. It made her feel very important and grown up. He turned to leave, but before he took a second step, he turned back to Mara while reaching into his pocket. He pulled something out and held it out in his palm in front of her.
“This is for you,” said the stranger. It was a beautifully colored stone, possibly from a river or a creek. Perhaps it was a piece of colored glass that had been ground down and smoothed by the rushing water against the river bottom.
“You don’t have to worry about spinning your whole life away. Your life is for you to enjoy,” he told Mara. “Baka is old and she means well. You’re going to live anyway whether you spin or not. Go ahead and be happy. What's the point, otherwise? God doesn’t mind.
He turned again to leave. “I wish you a happiness,” he said, waving a hand as if he were casting a spell as he walked away without looking back. “Have a happy life.” He took off his coat and swung it over his shoulder, whistling as he walked. Then he disappeared into the distance.
“Happiness,” she thought as she held the beautifully colored stone between her fingers so the sun would shine through it. She looked at the cat, asleep by the stove. Nature, she thought, must have cast a spell on cats, telling them to chase birds and balls of yarn and to take long naps. It seemed like a happy life. It would be nice to be happy.
She imagined,“Maybe this is a magic stone. Maybe that man was an angel and he came here especially to give me this magic stone.” What a ridiculous thought. She felt strangely light. She was almost giddy, in fact. Wouldn't it be nice to be out wading in a stream or eating wild strawberries in the field, or playing jump rope with some other girls. It would be more fun than spinning.
read more