Sad Pain

The first time she heard him sing, she felt he was singing for her. On a trip into town, she heard the low, pulsing rhythms. A faint wisp of melody that might have been a voice.  She walked towards the source of the sound, now becoming clearer. There he sat on a wooden crate. A guitar, a tambourine by one foot and a cardboard box with some kicker by the other foot. He wasn’t singing, just strumming along. The sound of the guitar was different than other guitars she had heard during the odd-party when someone would pull out the instrument and start playing. This guitar had a more enigmatic tone, dissonant and pleading. The ends of the strings were bouncing around as he played, as his dreadlocks swayed with the song. Mismatched shoes, a well-worn sweater, patched pants and a dog lying next to him rounded it out. She wasn’t sure if he was a street person, but he did look the part.
The spell was broken when he stopped playing.
He looked at and smiled “G’d afternoon”.
“Hi” was all she managed.
And he started playing again.
“Day by day, I only knew Love, Thru the pain when it was spoken of…”

She was reminded of her Mom. “A single Mom” – how many times had she heard that saying. When she had friends over, and they had something to eat or got done at the movies.
“I bet she has both parents.” her Mom would say.

What does that have to do with it? Mom had other favorite sayings.
“It’s just me here, no-one else to look after you.”
“It’s not easy doing all this, but I do it because I Love you” The more Mom loved, that more it hurt.

Remembering that, she walked on, not wanting to know what else he felt. Only concerned with the memories.