The dings and clicks beckoned us like the Sirens calling Odysseus and his sailors.
Desirae* and I found the pinball machines at the back of the eclectic candy store. Antiques filled every inch of the store. A collection of Pez candy dispensers, old movie posters and rubber duckies were among the fun items decorating the space. (*Name changed.)
Two rows of pinballs lit up the room.
“I wish I had some quarters.” Desirae pushed the buttons on the Dancing Lady game.
I fed a five into the change machine, and we spent the next half hour playing pinball. Of course, we had to take some silly selfies.
Later, as we drove back to Desirae’s home, my phone rang, coming over the Bluetooth in the car.
Since my daughter recently moved out, I asked Destiny if she cared if I answered. When I hung up a few minutes later, Destiny’s question floored me.
“Does your daughter call you just to talk?”
I started mentoring Desirae when she was in sixth grade. Even after five years, I’m always amazed at the things I learn. Sometimes, I think Desirae teaches me more than I teach her. Many of these lessons and themes have found their way into my fiction.
I grew up in a stable home.
Desirae has not.
Dad is incarcerated, and her mom struggles with addiction. Desirae and one of her sisters spent time in foster care when they were younger. In the time I’ve known Desirae, she has moved seven different times. Food scarity and poverty are a daily battle.
In Destiny’s world, not having a relationship with her mother is normal. They barely talk now. Her question was valid. Why would they talk by phone after she moves out?
Our worlds might as well spin in different orbits. But mentoring has bridged the gap.
The seemingly insignificant moment opened up a conversation that continued until we reached her house. Desirae had several questions as she processed what she’d witnessed.
Mentoring is powerful. Every visit is a chance to learn a different way to live, an opportunity for Desirae and other mentees to break free from the dysfunction they experience on a daily basis.
As I reflect on being a mentor during National Mentoring Month, I’m grateful for small moments.
The little things really do matter.