She is a tiny thing, like a little pixie
but of the older order. Her age sloping her form. Her cane, a counter balance.
She wears a long green flowing skirt.
Long enough it kisses her ankles so femininely. A stark contrast to the
the masculine beige orthopedics
shoes shuffling underneath. I imagine they so very necessary now since she seem to be the type of woman that once wore pointed toe, high heels. Her hair is strawberry blonde frosted with aging white. I think it as more striking in her youth, more of a sun streaked copper. Tiny curls frame her forehead and the pinned bun at the back of her head implies she still treasures it’s hidden length. I imagine her sitting at her vanity, slowly removing the pins, watching the snow laden, sunset streaks fall to the top of her shoulders. Slowly running the hairbrush through the strands, smoothing the roughness, brushing the weariness of the world away. I notice her lashes are pale, more of a indication that she is ginger. Ginger, a reddish spice with zing! Teehee! Perhaps she was a willful child. The cornflower blue of her eyes needs no dark lashes to frame their beautiful color. That’s only cosmetic anyway. Her eyes clearly speak she has lived a life as loved. Her love? He was sitting right besides her. Writing down the date of her appointment next week. He did it intently. Checking to make sure he wrote it down right. She softly answered that he did have it right. His actions write their own story and it would seem the plot is that his only job ever in this world was, and is to take care of her. Although, I giggle quietly to myself because she was the one to leading the way as they leave the building. They talked of going home to eat leftovers…their own home. I imagined those walls have a few stories to tell.
As I sit alone in the empty waiting room, waiting for my daughter, I feel a small tug on my heart. Nudging my need to write of such an ordinary interaction. Perhaps my heart, my mind, my soul, needs to speak of such simplicity. To remember that in the end we are fortunate to have love stand beside us, through the easy and definitely the hard times of life. And of course I am a woman that observes all the beauty of my surroundings. I’m finding that my passion, although late in my midlife, is writing of such things, as truth, beauty and love, and all the feelings and emotions that come with it. I want to paint tiny little pictures with my own unique color of ink. In the stillness of this moment, I think to myself…I hope I will be and will remain so beautifully loved, and wildly feminine as she!