Listening In…

I entered the restroom at a restaurant unaware that I was stepping into the middle of an amazing conversation. I had entered just moments behind a beautiful, graceful, exotic-looking woman who was lengthy and lithe like a willow tree, decked head-to-toe in clothes that yelled “money” and with her hair simply perfect. She was one of those women who take my breath away upon seeing them because they seem to be absolutely, 100% comfortable in their body and their life. She was stunning.

When I entered, she was at the sink washing her hands. Behind her, halfway into the restroom, was a woman who was the complete antithesis of the Amazon queen I had followed in. This woman was disheveled and frumpy, her hair appeared to have not been brushed for days. She was missing several front teeth, had dirt smeared on her face and smudged on her clothes. She was mismatched, her shoes torn and sloppy and the backpack slung over her back was gaping open, missing the zipper pull aparatus all together.

I entered as the Goddess at the sink began talking. I imagine the other woman’s question had been, “How are you today,” because the glorious creature answered, “Thank you for asking. I am so profoundly blessed in every moment by God that I have nothing to complain about. I love my life and I’m grateful for it every day. How about you?”

By this point, I had made it to the stall and had closed the door behind me so I couldn’t see the other woman’s face. I had observed her staring dibelievingly at the woman, checking her out before glancing sadly, quickly in the mirror beside her for comparison. I couldn’t see her face, but I could imagine it in the awkward silence that followed the question.

Then her voice croaked out uncertainly, giving away her lack of education and hard-life choices, “Well, I ain’t never been that good. So I guess I’m just fine.”

The woman had finished her washing and I heard her turn to leave. She graciously said, “Well, doll, may your day be blessed.”

“Thank you,” it was barely a whisper.

And then the room was silent. Leaving me alone to wipe my tears.


2 responses

  1. wow, what the contrast. Thanks for sharing that.

    September 2, 2011 at 5:42 pm

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