Wednesday, October 22, 2008

Almost (continued, part 3)

I stood motionless for a moment. The dismissal had been abrupt, and I was now left with only one option: time to go. Taking my first step forward I was surprised when, grasping the lead with me was a small hand. Childlike trust had prompted the boy who originally taunted my pup to quietly and confidently join me in walking the dog back to the car. I caught his eye. His eyes danced with delight that I had not pushed him away.

We walked.

The woman-mother approached us, speaking to the boy. Now the beauty of her features were unsequestered by bulky frames shielding the bright. A light smattering of auburn freckles danced playfully across high, delicate cheekbones. This served as a backdrop bringing pronunciation to the glittering green emerald eyes, set in gaunt hollows, surrounded by strawberry red hair.

Those eyes.

Smiling they were, content.

"Shall we go see the chickens now?" she asked her son, a gentle nod towards leaving.

The door sprung open before me, unexpectedly ~ and I seized the moment.

"Chickens? We are about to add chickens to our family!" I was thrilled to find a common denominator with her. Instead of continuing conversation about chickens, though, she motioned to the jogging stroller. "Aren't those wonderful?"

It was brief, the conversation, and not particularly poignant in the way of words.

Yet the unspoken weighed heavy in the air: I could see that from somewhere deep within this beautiful woman ~ this woman with seven sons, three of which were special needs boys; this woman who had, at some point chosen Judaism as her faith and her way of life; this woman whose culture determined her companionship . . .

somewhere within herself she remembered.

Stirred within her were recollections of days gone by, of a life left behind.

I stood as the agent of memories.

She allowed them to dance across her minds' eye. Green eyes laughing, loving the moment; yet guarded - so as to not long for a return.

I drove past the tattered van slowly, taking one last long look. Her thin frame, weighed with a black short-waisted jacket and long black skirt stood stark against the rock. Her strawberry red hair and laughing, glittering green emerald eyes watched; her bird-like hand raised in an unexpectedly exuberant wave of goodbye from an old friend.

I almost obtained a photograph of my heart's long-held desire, produced by seeing and watching the Jewish community here in LA.

I almost knew her, the woman who lived behind those eyes that remembered.

A sadness enveloped me as dust kicked up behind my car.

Almost. I thought.

1 comment:

Karen said...

Great story Angie, I love it.

Ah, those almost moments - life is full of them.

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