We pulled into the skatepark and I expressed mild annoyance that “my’ parking spot was taken.
I can see the skaters from there and the old oaks next to it provide both a windbreak and shade when the sun is high in the afternoon sky.
It’s “my” spot, but the skating must go on.
I pulled into a spot facing across from it and noted that the car in my spot looked “lived in”…not just because it was old and worn, but because someone was living in it.
While T skated I watched her load and unload things from the car…watched her repair the black plastic garbage bags that now patched the back windows that no longer roll up and fix up her “home” as she preferred.
She had set up a portable camp stove next to her car and was making what appeared to be a soup in an old aluminum pot.
The smell of the cooking onions made it feel warmer outside than it was.
I watched her dance to music I couldn’t hear.
It dawned on me me that not only was she dancing to music I couldn’t hear, but that she may as well have been invisible as well.
People walked by her as if she wasn’t there, not seeing that there was someone living in a Honda, not noticing someone trying to make an afternoon meal from ingredients that came from God knows where.
An invisible woman danced to inaudible music while the world passed her by.
I damned the blindness and deafness to hell and pulled up alongside her.
“Can I get you anything…can I help you?”
“You just did”, she smiled.
She pulled a bare, steaming turkey leg from the pot and waved us away.
She smiles when she speaks and her dance comes from the music in her soul.
I can’t hear it, but it’s real enough to bring her joy.
I wonder if I’ve ever heard it…
Some things are not for sale on Black Friday…
Make your own application…