The Wounded Pearl

As a child I was told about the oyster whose shell was invaded by a piece of dust and who ended up turning the unwelcome guest into a shiny pearl. I think most parents felt obligated to share that fact with their children, to bolster their resilience when faced with adversity. I know my father did. I responded to the advice with quite a bit of both indifference emotionally, and curiosity intellectually as to the biological processes involved. I found the tale interesting, but it did not make an impact on my child's mind. The other day, Mother's Day weekend as a matter of fact, I was hit by a wave of the blues, not uncommon for me on holidays. My son was gone most of the weekend, and I missed him. The story of the resourceful and creative oyster came to mind. But, this time, the experience was very different. I felt the piece of sand grinding in the inner part of my heart like a physical pain, it was a real sensation, that felt like I had a thing inside me giving me an aching, bleeding cut. It lingered for quite a while, as I was trying very hard to muster the will power to vanquish the pain. It certainly did not feel like I was making a pearl, or was eventually going to end up with one as a reward for sticking it to that intruder into my peaceful weekend. I realized all I could do was accept the pain, and hope it would subside. I tried very hard to rationalize the irrationality of the pain, to eradicate its uncomfortable nausea from my mind. It was like canoeing through sand. The only head way I was making was in level of irritation as I failed miserably. But, being blessed with a stubborn nature, I eventually convinced myself I was feeling better. If I ended up with a pearl in the process, it was a messy and bloodied one, no doubt about that. I am not sure who has more of an ordeal to go through, the oyster or the pearl. The oyster obviously has to battle to turn the piece of dirt into a pearl, but the pearl does not exactly get a free ride having to win a beauty contest in the stomach juices of its host. I had not thought about the oyster and the pearl in a very long time. I must say I look forward to the hopeful prospect that I will not be revisited by the duo for quite some time, as the only painkiller for the ordeal seems to be a sheer determination to deny its presence. "Go away" seems to work eventually. Eventually. No wonder I am not particularly keen on wearing pearls. I 'd rather wear a dragon's teeth, if you don't mind.