2 weeks Ago
At the ice machine the other evening I had the pleasure of meeting Mason. I had already learned Mason's name from his dad, who I inadvertently heard say it multiple times before they finished getting their ice. This didn't stop Mason from introducing himself to me.
Mason walked right over, hugged my legs and proudly stated his name. I was immediately disarmed. Mason wanted me to know that he's 6 now and NOT 5 and that he was having a birthday party the next day.
He was going to invite me but Dad wouldn't let him. Mason then announced that he was going to help me with my ice and asked if I was getting a bag or filling a cooler. How could I refuse? I was with it! Mason said he didn't have any money but he was going to make sure I pushed the right button, and help me load my ice.
The ice purchase was sprinkled with a few more rapid-fire questions from the half-pint gentleman, and I was stumbling to answer because I was inexplicably overwhelmed. Mason's service was complete when his dad told him he wasn't big enough to tie or lift my bag of ice and that "that nice lady" might not want his hands getting it dirty. People are also reading.
.. Mason was a two minute whirlwind.
Mason was helpful. Mason was curious. Mason came into my space.
Mason humanized me. Mason made me forget whatever was bothering me right then, and ride home with a goofy grin on my face. I believe it's worth mentioning that Mason was white .
.. because I am not.
I'm a middle-aged Black woman. I point this out because our default mind assumes that unprompted, extended interactions are generally with the same race. Our own people are our unconscious "safe space.
" I was all set to silently wait my turn, get my ice, and go. From a distance, I instinctively didn't expect any verbal interaction. Up close, I couldn't have been more wrong.
Mason was a great example of what we can teach our children to be, and what we ourselves can choose to be. I pray no one ever snuff s out his fl ame. We all could probably stand to be a little more like Mason.
Maybe ...
just maybe ...
we could give it a shot. Consuelo (Connie) Brown is a wife and registered nurse who lives in Greensboro. Get local news delivered to your inbox!.
