I’m not a religious person, but I am a spiritual one—although I’m not entirely sure where I stand on the concept of karma.
Let me tell you a little story:
Three years ago, my mother cut the palm of her hand deeply on the mandoline she kept in her snack drawer. I know what you’re thinking: Why would she keep a sharp kitchen tool in the same place as pretzels and cookies? (I have no idea.) Isn’t that dangerous? (Yes, it is—as she proved by slicing her hand on it.) Needless to say, because of the absurdity of the situation, I’ve been teasing her about it ever since.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago, and I, too, sliced my hand on a sharp kitchen tool.
Granted, it wasn’t a mandoline (it was the very sharp blade of a new food processor) and it wasn’t in a snack drawer (it was on my counter, being used to make nut butter), but I did cut myself deeply and carelessly nonetheless.
To add salt to the wound—or in this case, fire to the wound—later that same evening, I burned the very same hand on the stove top burner (something I’ve done before, sadly).
Karma’s a bitch … but so am I, so I guess I deserved it.
But was it really karma?
Was this terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day really a cosmic payback for years of teasing my mother? Or was it a wild coincidence? A careless midlife lapse in judgement for me and a senior moment for her? Or was it genetics at play?
My guess is it was a bit of each.
Moral(s) of the story: Don’t make fun of your mother—and be careful with kitchen tools (oh, and DEFINITELY don’t keep sharp objects with your snacks!).
—LJDT
