Eternal Source

Eight-year-old Anselm was returning from El Mercado del pueblo when his mother called out to him, “mijo, go wash up and get ready for dinner; I made your favorite, sopa de hueso."

Anselm rushed to the makeshift stable to tie up his donkey; he packed the animal’s trough with some left-over straw from yesterday’s bundle.

The sun was setting behind him and the night breeze started to come in as he hurried towards his home for dinner.

Anselm quickly kicked off his caites and washed up at the pila in the kitchen; dinner smelled terrific.

“ How’d it go at the market today, mijito?" his mother asked as she set a small basket of freshly made tortillas down in the middle of the table.

Blowing at his soup, Anselm stopped to answer, " good mama, I left the centavitos in your room together with the accounting. Mama people keep saying there is something about our mangoes, and they keep complaining; we never bring enough to the market."

Bringing the spoon to his mouth, Anselm started sipping his soup; he loved the humble dish. There was never much meat, but the bones boiled provided a delicate broth that was both nutritious and refreshing.

He noticed before his mother could respond, she suddenly turned pale and cried out in pain while grabbing her abdomen and falling to her knees.

“Mama!" Anselm shot up from his chair in a panic; he ran to the neighbor’s hut, a Campesina with experience in women’s medicine.

Anselm beckoned, “ hurry; mama does not look too good."

By the time they walked into Anselm's hut, his mama was slumped on the floor as pale as a ghost, barely breathing, a puddle of blood beneath her.

The Campesina said some prayers over Anselm’s mother and reported, “your mama will not make it past the night."

With tears in his eyes, Anselm ran to his mother's side. His mother looked at him, and with the last of her strength, she stroked her son's face and faintly reminded him with the softest voice, " I love you, mijo, remember all the things I taught you, be hardworking, honest, respectful, and diosito y la virgen will never leave you."

Sobbing uncontrollably, Anselm could not mutter the words he wanted to say, and just like that, his mama exhaled her last breath and expired.

The next day, the pueblo people heard of the doña’s passing and helped Anselm prepare for the burial.

A tall, lean man with suede riding boots approached Anselm’s hut and pronounced that he was his uncle, and he would oversee Anselm until he was old enough to be on his own.

Not expecting much, Anselm was happy to have a home to share with a familiar; he would work to earn his keep and offered his service of gratitude to his uncle.

After the burial, Anselm packed up his small belongings bag; he did not own much, but whatever he held was well kept. Wiping his tears, he picked up his bag, closed the door, and looked back at the home he once shared with his mother for the last time.

Throwing his bag over his donkey, Anselm untied the animal and led him to follow behind his uncles’ horse that carried them off to their new home.

And thus, it happened as it does with the crossroads of time; Anselm passed from childhood to adolescence. The years had treated him a bit unfairly; often, he found himself skipping out on outdoor play with other children his age because he was busy stuffing mattresses and keeping house for his uncle, though he never complained.

Despite enduring a beating or two from his uncle when he would get into his drunken rages, Anselm remained filial and remembered his mama’s advice. When the going got tough, she would often say that life’s tragedies served to purify the soul.

Now fifteen years of age, Anselm truly felt alone, his only friend, his donkey, suddenly died one day, and with deep sadness, he found himself feeling out of place with no purpose in the world.

He decided to approach his uncle and, with a slight tremble in his voice, spoke, “I don’t mean to bother, but I was thinking maybe I could attend the neighborhood school to further my education."

Anselm's uncle scoffed at him, stinking of alcohol; he knocked the boy on the head, “what do you need that school crap for, are you ungrateful, stuffing mattresses not good enough for you, you think you're too good for this house”?

Avoiding an escalation to the problem, Anselm timidly responded and said, "no sir," and quietly walked away.

That night on his cot Anselm felt the pent-up years of tension and decided that he would find a way out of his complaints; he neatly packed his bag and left a note for his uncle that read,

Thank you for the years you helped me as a child. I will no longer be a burden for you and will seek a future worth living for. One day, I hope to repay you for your charity.

So, it was in the early hours before the crack of dawn; he made his way out of his uncle’s land.

Anselm knew it would not be easy being out on his own he owned neither money nor land, but he was determined to succeed.

The first rooster crowed, and the sun rose brilliantly up in the sky, Anselm had not slept a wink wondering if he had made the right decision in leaving his uncle’s home, but there was no use looking back; he had come this far.

All morning Anselm stood by the Catedral del pueblo, asking a passerby now and again if they had any work to offer.

It seemed quite an unlucky morning for him, although he had managed to scrape up a cent or two from a couple of generous souls, but still no real work.

Deciding to stop for a tortilla at the market, he noticed a very distinguished lady who was in a rush a companion trailing close behind her. They were in such a hurry that neither noticed the small black book that fell out of the lady’s bag.

Anselm picked up the book and called after the lady, but it was no use; the sound of the Mercado drowned his calls.

The dame was moving so fast he nearly lost sight of her, when he caught up to them, he saw them at the central bank entrance the lady was searching through her bag with an air of desperateness. They then turned back the way they came, and Anselm approached them and handed the book to the lady.

"This belongs to you," he kindly smiled as he spoke.

The lady let out a sigh of relief as she pressed her palm to her chest.

Then she turned to take the book and looked inside it and noticed all her documents were intact.

“I truly appreciate your honesty; how can I repay you."

Anselm stroked the dirt with his sandals and asked the dame if he knew anyone who can take him in and give him work; he explained to the dame how he came to be in his current situation and how all he wanted to do was earn an honest living and pay for his schooling to better himself.

The dame smiled and replied, "you are in luck, young man; I just came into a considerable inheritance and am indeed in need of a good laborer.

Before she could finish, Anselm did not think twice before responding cheerily with an I will take it.

For many moons, Anselm settled in as a worker for the dame, applying all the pay that he earned with his sweat and tears towards his school costs.

He completed the preparatory and later enrolled in a technical school to study electrical sciences.

On the day of his graduation, the dame threw a graduation party for Anselm and her son Ivan who was returning home after completing his law school studies.

The evening after the party, Ivan invited Anselm to a glass of rum in the study. While they chatted, Ivan asked, "so what are your plans now that you are an electrician."

"I guess I'll just keep helping around the estate the way I always have; I am forever grateful to your mother for taking me in," Anselm replied.

Ivan shook his head, smiled, and said, "you can’t stay here forever; you have to put what you studied to good use, maybe start a family."

A look of worry came over Anselm, and he went deep in thought; he set his glass on the side table and said, " I'll talk to your mother and see what she thinks."

The morning after the graduation party, the dame invited Anselm to the breakfast table, there were visitors, and Anselm politely acknowledged them as he took his seat.

Ivan slyly smiled while buttering his bread; he spoke to the gentlemen that sat across from him,

" This is Anselm, my family’s work hand, who studied electricity; I think he will be a great fit for your business."

“What do you think?”, Ivan addressed a perplexed Anselm.

Anselm turned to look at the dame seeking her consent; she simply smiled and nodded.

They spoke over breakfast for quite some time, and Anselm made such an impression that the gentlemen offered him a position at the shop selling and maintaining the newest coming of age appliances.

Shortly after that, he began working at the shop, and he was greatly appreciated because he kept meticulous records of every registry.

Walking home one day from work, he met his future wife at a fruit stand. He fell in love instantly and stopped by every day to visit her until the day he proposed.

After his proposal, Anselm announced to the dame that he would be leaving to start his own family. The dame wished him well and blessed him on his way.

Anselm and his wife inherited a generous dowry from her parents, giving them two lots of land. On one, Anselm ordered his future home built with a modest patch for farming. He thought times were changing and decided a modern commercial center would be a good investment for the other lot.

Years passed, and Anselm had four children and another on the way when he got the news that his uncle was dying. He rode his truck over to his uncles’ disheveled home, and there lay a shell of a man, his skin yellow and barely breathing.

He grabbed the old man’s hand and told him everything was going to be okay. The old man frowned and sobbed as he apologized to Anselm.

Anselm implored his uncle that there was nothing to apologize for; he thanked his uncle for the years he helped him. He stayed praying by his bedside the whole evening until the old man breathed his last.

The following day Anselm prepared the burial for his uncle, all the while introspecting on how all the events in his life were no mere coincidence. He was thankful for how his life played out and concluded that it was not the series of events that brought him to his fate, but rather, it was attained by exerting the effects of time, perseverance, and virtue.

Saying his final goodbye to his uncle, he placed a black leather-bound bible into the casket. It reminded him of the little black book that led him to the road of opportunity first given by the dame. That mysterious day that bared witness to the secret workings of nature, realizing he stood in the mutable mist of divine providence all along. He looked up to the heavens thankful for the noble gift’s life had blessed him with.