Prose

Making a Gift

written by: arjjones

"Lies are Intolerable. When we live with lies, we die." In June of 1983, I met a woman who had discovered a bountiful treasure. I marveled at this accomplishment until our discourse revealed the key to her good fortune. Long before my time, she had learned to live through the lens of honesty, in all things, and thereby brought into focus the divinity within herself. That treasure was a refined brew of the triumphant human spirit, whose aroma pressed deeply upon my senses in my efforts of making. How could one gather elements within a work of the hand that talked about respect and love for the dearest of souls? I asked. I found my solution not by coercion, but by the means that granted me a more profound understanding of my aim. Over time, our impressions are reinforced; within time, we chisel a finite cadence with clumsy zeal. My endeavor to define those events shared between, around, and during the times I have spent with this same woman, led me to my end. My mother is the woman I encountered twenty-four years ago. Thoughts of her, in concurrence with inspiration from the tenets of togetherness and collectivity from making traditions, nurtured the seed of an idea about making time a gift to reflect the acknowledgement of precious moments. I feel honored that I could disburse such energy in the spirit of love, and see that by this act, and aim for a smile as defrayment.

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