A most curious thing happened yesterday. I shared a little of it with my friend Lynn last night… but was simply unable to articulate the event until now. I’m certain I owe this sudden articulation to the can of Rockstar I just downed.
I had run out of facial moisturizer. I’m into hydration big time. I scurried over to CVS to snag a bottle of Olay Regenerist.
As I stood in the checkout lane, I noticed that the woman in front of me seemed to be having trouble. She had two compacts of blush – one coral, one pink. She kept looking from one to the other, in confusion.
It was her turn to checkout. She placed both on the conveyor belt and asked the clerk,”Which one is coral?”
The clerk said nothing. I stepped forward and pointed to the coral. “This is coral,” I said. Then I pointed to the other. “This is pink.”
She seemed relieved. “Oh, thank you love. I need coral.”
I regarded her. She was very petite, about five feet tall, fair skin, blue eyes, ash hair. “You have a very cool complexion,” I told her. “I think you’d be better off with the more pink tone. That’s what you are wearing right now.”
“Oh thank you,” she said, and handed the pink to the clerk. She pointed to a bag behind the clerk. “That’s mine,” she said. “I had forgotten my checkbook.”
The clerk rang her up. She reached into a fanny pack she was wearing…. and stopped. “Oh, no,” she moaned. “I forgot it again.”
It was then that I saw her mouth. The left side drooped slightly. Her left arm seemed somewhat useless. I know these characteristics all too well. She had, at one time, suffered a stroke.
I mentally calculated what was in my bank account, the cost of my moisturizer, what bills were still to be paid… then I placed my item with hers and told the clerk to add it all up. The clerk looked at me as if I were insane. I repeated myself, and paid the total.
The woman said nothing; her eyes shone with gratitude. We gathered our items and walked outside.
I told her my name. I asked her about her stroke – she had experienced several. “You’re doing great,” I told her. Does she have family? No. She lives alone. No family. No friends – “Other than these guys,” she said as she pointed to the Van Nuys fire department t-shirt that she was wearing. I understood immediately – she had purchased a cheese grater. “You’re cooking them dinner,” I said. She smiled and nodded. “You are an angel,” I said. She looked at me curiously… and grabbed my hand.
She began to speak in rapid bursts. “You have been touched with a great negative force in your life. Sometimes you have felt as if it is suffocating you… but you are letting negative go and allowing the great positive that has been waiting for you for so long in. You do not always trust this positive because the negative does not want you to but you are listening to the positive and to you deep inside. I am not religious but I want you to know that there are those that watch out for you. Embrace the positive – literally and figuratively. Know that you are loved. I love you. You are grace.”
Then, she turned and walked away, a dreamy, floaty gait.
She called back, “You’re on this road for a reason.”
As my eyes followed her, I noticed a young man at the edge of the parking lot. Early twenties, tall, black hair, clad entirely in black, down to his long black trench coat.
She joined him and they crossed the street together, and headed down Camarillo.
I almost followed them… but something stopped me. That something was a feeling that I might turn onto Camarillo… only to discover that no one was there.
As I write this, I’m looking at a piece of paper that I’ve had stuck on my iMac for a couple of months. On it, words that Jeanne told me some time back:
“Your road has brought you here for a reason. It’s up to you to find that reason and act on it.”
Now, go write.
HRH, Princess Scribe
Anne, this has me breathless. First of all, the Rockstar attribution had me laughing. I often find myself in periods of caffeine-induced inspiration as well. I love that you responsively interacted with this woman, and that you are perceptive to her needs and situation. This is a precious gift that I believe all artists share. It is our ability to be truly empathetic that makes us distinct. Considering what’s been happening with you lately, her message was indeed divine. XOXO
🙂 Interesting times, I am in. #yodaspeak
Life is crazy. Really. Seriously. As we like to say, “you can’t make this shit up!”
Thanks for the comment on my blog today, Princess.
“Sail on, Silver Girl…”
They truly do Live Among Us. 🙂
I don’t know if it was the surprise of what she said to you, your act of kindness, or just the power of your writing but I was very moved by this post. Thank-you. With Love, JoreJj Z.
Oh, thank you so much. All i am doing is putting down on e-page what happened.
I am having chills after reading your post about the lady and the man.
Reblogged this on Princess Scribe's Blog and commented:
A little over a year ago… and so apropos.
“It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which,if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilites, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all of our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. nations, cultures, arts, civilizations – These are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit – immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory