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Published: December 6th 2012
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After two hours of walking through Petra, I turned a bend on the dusty road and this beautiful little boy came into view. He was sitting all alone in the desert wearing a bright orange sweater of all things and a heavy cotton hat. Set before him was a sheet of cardboard covered in rocks for sale. My first thought was how ingenius this was, selling rocks in the desert. He had plentiful inventory, zero overhead costs, and a never ending stream of potential customers walking right past him all day. My second thought was, "Where is your mother young man?"
I have a seven-year-old son myself. I put him on the bus every morning and send him to school where he gets a good education. He came home recently telling me he knew what he wanted to be when he grew up. "And what is that?" I asked.
"I want to work at a bowling alley!" He told me.
"Well, if you work at a bowling alley, do you think I could come and bowl for free?" I asked.
"Of course! Wouldn't it be fun? We could bowl all the time together mom," he said.
"I think its a great idea. But, if that doesn't work out, do you have any other plans?"
"I was thinking....maybe if I couldn't work at a bowling alley, then I could be a window washer!" my little boy declares.
"They're both really good ideas," I assured him. "Who doesn't want to have clean windows, right?"
"That's what I was thinking," he tells me.
Seeing this little boy in Petra with his pile of rocks for sale, I started to think about my own son who was sitting in a classroom in a nice little school in the middle of nowhere in the Midwest. He was learning addition, subtraction and how to write in cursive. I knew when I got home and told him of the little boy who's job it was selling rocks, he would think that was just so cool.
"He's MY age? And he has a job
already?" my son would say.
"Yup, he already has a job. Selling rocks actually."
"I wish I had a job selling rocks. Ain't he the luckiest?!"
I would remind him not to say "ain't" but instead say "is not."
As impressed as I was with the little Bedouin boy's entrepreneurship, my heart broke for his mother. I'm sure she would rather have him home, safe, with her or perhaps even in school. Or maybe not. Maybe she was proud to have such a gregarious, hard working and sweet little boy that at age seven could help supplement the family's income from the relative confines of Petra. But in this vast desert, just where was she?
Then I saw her. She was huddeled up beneath a bush a few dozen yards behind the boy, rocking an infant back and forth in her arms, all the while watching me talk to her son.
Of course she would be there. The boy's long days selling rocks were her long days hiding in the bushes keeping an eye on him.
How universal a mother's protection is.
When
my little boy goes to work, you won't have to wonder where
I am.
I'll be spending my days hiding out at the bowling alley, keeping a close eye on him.
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Mike Fossey
Great place, great story
What an interesting way to present a story about one of the most fascinating places on earth. Thank you for bring back some fond memories.