May 17, 2010
I met a woman this afternoon while waiting to have my Jeep's oil changed. She sat across from me in the waiting room. Her bleached blonde hair was teased and piled high atop her head, her bangs framed a round and weathered face, her tired eyes were traced with thick, black liner. In a loud, confident and booming voice she said hello. I asked her if she'd like a magazine and she declined with an air of disdain. She wasn't the sort of person to sit quietly reading while there were other people around.
"This is the place to get your oil changed around here," she said enthusiastically. I asked if there was anywhere else to go. She looked thoughtful for a moment and replied, "I don't know". She then asked me if I had ever been married. I stifled a grin and simply said, "No. I travel for work and it's hard to meet people." She mentioned her single son in Arkansas. I smiled. She proceeded to tell me about her late husband, a Marine for many years and she planned to write a book about him. "He was a truly great man." She talked eagerly about him the entire time we waited in the small, hot room. I saw that she was lonely and my heart broke for her. Her rough exterior disguised a woman afraid of growing old without her friend.
Society in general fills me with impatience, displeasure, and a general sense of hopelessness. But every once in a while someone stands out. I realize that everyone has a story. About life. About love. And no matter what, we are here.
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