A Mom's Love

Every Lobster Has His Day
by Natalie June Reilly

One ordinary day I was walking through the grocery store with my eight-year-old son Alec. We were casually strolling through the aisles picking up a few things here and there. We needed milk, bread, cheese, waffles, cereal, you know, all the common dietary requests of a growing eight-year-old boy. As we came across the butcher’s block, we eased past the lobster tank when Alec’s youthful curiosity got the best of him. With his hands pressed against the glass of the aquarium he put himself face to face with a king-sized lobster. The boy and the lobster exchanged peculiar glances. “Are these crabs mom?” he asked inquisitively. “Lobsters honey.” I answered. Giving into my own youthful curiosity, I too peeked into the tank. “Why are they in the grocery store?” he asked. I ran my fingers through his blonde locks wondering how I should respond to my son, born defender of all wildlife, nature and all that is good. There was a pregnant pause. He looked up to me and asked the question again, “Why are they in the grocery store mom?” I knelt down next to him after having just read the stores advertisement for the hard-shelled red delicacy, $7.99 a pound. Not a bad deal I thought. I could almost taste it dipped in lots of butter. The truth is Alec still hadn’t related chicken nuggets with actual chickens. “Honey, people buy lobsters to eat.” I said, feeling a flush of warmth fill my cheeks as I watched his little boy face become deeply saddened. Alec turned to the lobster, which had by now pressed itself closer against the glass. His antennae like eyes locked on to Alec. Alec stood silent for a moment with his nose pressed against the cold glass. “People eat lobsters when they’re alive.” He asked, keeping his gaze on the lobster, which by now had become more than just a menu choice, but a life in need of rescue, a friend. “No sweetheart… they (pause)… they steam them first, take them home and than they eat them.” There was just no way to put this delicately because I knew that no matter how I put it, he would take it hard.

Alec loves animals, so much in fact that he intends on becoming a veterinarian when he grows up. And because there was no other way around this, this day would be one of those lessons in growing up. As I watched my son and this silly lobster connect I began to wonder what he was thinking. (My son, not the lobster.) “When you’re steamed do you die?” he whispered. “I’m afraid so.” I replied in little more than a breath. “Does it hurt?” he asked, looking at me through big, watery blue eyes. “I don’t know.” We both turned to the lobster and saw that he had made his way back with his other lobster friends. “I hope not.” Alec said. “Can people get steamed?” he asked. Only when they’re really mad I thought to myself in jest. “No honey. People don’t get steamed.” I could tell he was internalizing it because his eyes grew distant. “The thing is baby, God put lobsters and many other animals on this earth for us to eat so that we can stay alive. I know it doesn’t sound fair, but it’s the way it was meant to be.” Alec shook his head pensively. “And I think that when these lobsters are steamed it happens so fast that they don’t even know what happened.” What else could I tell him? I could lie to him, but than he would never understand the harsh reality of life later. He wrapped his little arms around my neck and squeezed tight. He took one last look at the lobsters inside of the tank and with the breath of innocence said goodbye to his friend the lobster. And than with the notoriously slight attention span of an eight-year-old boy, he was off and running towards the toy aisle.

I indulged in a deep, cleansing breath and stood back to my feet. As I began to push the grocery cart, I began to wonder if the words I had shared with him were the right words. Was he equipped to understand what I had just told him? Will he ever come back to our conversation outside of the lobster tank and try to make heads or tails of it all. I believe in being delicately honest with children. It’s all about helping them grow into life’s shoes. It’s about talking to them openly and honestly. That’s when it hit me like a butcher’s blade. When it comes to this life aren’t we all just that proverbial lobster sitting in the tank of life? Aren’t we all just waiting around for that hand to carefully reach down and pick us out one lobster at a time for that ultimate steam bath? We are no different than our delicious, hard-shelled lobster friends. My conversation with Alec made it very clear to me how precarious and short life is whether you are the lobster, the house cat, a loved one or a neighbor. The heartbreaking truth and startling realization is that we are all just looking through that proverbial aquarium glass window from the lobster’s point of view. We will all have our day. No one or no one thing is exempt from that fate, not even our children as we so desperately hope to believe.

I guess my prayer lies in the hopes that in the on that particular day there be someone caring and loving enough, like my boy Alec, looking back at each of us from the other side of the glass through the big, blue, watery eyes of love before we go. Only than do we know for sure that our life counted for something or someone, as we see our reflection captured forever in the hearts of someone who loved us. My son Alec and a lobster taught me that one fine day at the grocery store. It’s funny, the places we learn some of life’s most valuable lessons. For me, on that day, it was in the middle of the meat department at my local grocery store for the sale price of $7.99 a pound.

About the Author: Natalie June Reilly lives in Arizona. She is a single mother raising two little boys. She is a published author of the children's book "My Stick Family; Helping Children Cope with Divorce", a book she was inspired to write for her own children after her divorce. Her passion is writing, and her inspirations are her children and and how they fill her life with laughter and love. Her wish for all single mothers; "Be True to You".