A couple of coincidental names have shown up for me this weekend. Which my son insists is just a coincidence. There is no link. It doesn't mean anything. Okay then, I tell him. At twenty years of age, he is entitled to his opinion. I don't force my ideas down his throat. I sometimes don't even point them out to him, because I know he isn't interested. And yet, still, whenever we are out and about together, which, at his age, isn't very often, these coincidences show up.
It makes me laugh, he doesn't enjoy it so much, because he knows I apply meaning to something which he feels is just clutching at straws in an attempt to make meaning out of chaos.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, I went and volunteered at the charity shop, the lady who has helped me and trained me in the ways of this latest venture is called Mary. Naturally, I warmed to her immediately, she shares an old family name, on my Dad's side of the family. I acknowledge the coincidence in my mind and carry on regardless. I am in the right place at the right time to either be learning something or teaching someone else something, either way it is a win win.
The Saturday afternoon before a Sunday wedding saw my twenty year old in need of a present and a card to take to his Uncle's wedding in the morning. I took the opportunity to offer to take a trip into town with my six foot son who is usually too fast for me to keep up with, stretching his giraffe like legs to get everywhere he walks as soon as possible. My son agreed that we should both head to town and find wedding stuff. Clearly, he was thinking that the shopping for a gift would be easier if I was in tow. Nice to know I still have my uses.
The walk was slower than he was anticipating, my 46 year old legs just aren't as fast as they used to be and I have learnt to pace myself. So, we had 2.2. miles to have a little chat about nothing in particular. We had a laugh about my son meeting up with his old school friends, who have all gone to different Universities, my son told me something particularly amusing about someone he knows, Toby his name is. I haven't met him, he is not someone I have heard much about, but the story amuses him and therefore it amuses me. I enjoy the company of my son in cheerful mood and I also take advantage of the walking situation to suggest a trip to Specsavers, for new glasses.
This is something my son usually has to be cajoled into, it is not somewhere he will go willingly, a) hates queueing b) hates any form of chores c) dislikes shopping. For my son, new glasses, a bit of admin and finding new frames, discussing lense types in a busy shop falls into all of these categories. We manage it, really, quite painlessly. I am hopeful we can get in and out in less than an hour. Their printer isn't working, the frames he has chosen aren't compatible with his lens type, the specsaver's employee is v.patient with us both and helps find something similar by rummaging in a cupboard on the wall disguised as a mirror, she comes us with a similar style, but she does still feel it will be difficult to adjust the frame on his face with the lenses he needs. Cool. We have a helpful sales person. I silently thank my Guardian Angels.
The final point of sale, do you want buy one get one free? or 25% student discount off just one pair, and do you want two the same. It is this sort of decision making and messing about that deters my son from going shopping. My son at this point has two pairs sitting in front of him, one he has chosen, sort of black,very smart, good for interviews, and the one the sales lady found,which she doesn't feel is really the best shape.
My son opts for the smart one on the grounds it is simple and quick. I am nudged by spirit, I know there is something we are about to miss, but I don't know what it is. I butt in and ask for the price of one pair, with 25% off...£50 something, the price of buy one, get one free? £60 something. My son has his maths student lightbulb moment, oh, wait, what £10.00 for a whole spare pair of glasses? Oh, okay then, he will have two. Two the same? The saleswoman wants to know. My son agrees. This is what he does. It is the easiest option, going with the flow, getting out of the shop as soon as possible. I am nudged into interfering mode again.
'Sorry, what?' I say, offering my tuppence worth, 'why not have two different styles to choose from?'
After all, if the second pair are only a tenner, does it really matter if the lenses are not quite as easy to shape with his style of lenses? No, of course it doesn't. My son agrees, yes, have two different pairs. This of course makes a little more admin for the sales woman and we wait a few minutes more. While we are waiting, I just can't help myself and I hear myself asking
'What is the name of those frames?', you know, how all the glasses are given weird and wonderful names, like 'Osiris' and 'Pegasus'... well, this particular frame, chosen firstly by my son, unchosen by the sales woman and then re-chosen by me, is called Toby.
My son and I look at each other and even he smiles at the coincidence. Our mood is lightened again as we wait, more patiently, with a happy reminder of the funny story we had a laugh at earlier. My son is just happy to be reminded of the story. I am happy that he has been shown a coincidence, again, whether he gives it any meaning or not.
Lots of love,light and coincidences to everyone who needs it.
Tamasin x
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