She sticks out like a sore thumb. An older white-haired woman dressed in a sparkling green blouse and matching green capri pants. The people around her are young hipsters, hippies, punks and nerds. But she is there, seeming not to notice that she is as different as those around her notice that she doesn’t fit in.
When she sits down at the table in the corner, she dusts leftover food particles off the surface. She does not look annoyed or disgusted, but instead has a little smile. She does not have any food or drinks with her. Until an even older man walks up with their iced lattes. He has a smile on his face that explains the grin on hers. Somehow, though the two seem to be in their ’70s, they are so, so young.
They are just getting to know each other. A young student-type in the corner next to them sits alone. He keeps his eyes down, reading, with his thoughts not leaving his own mind. The two older people are talking, constantly. Their thoughts, memories, actions leave their minds to be expressed in the human language. Now the student is old. The couple continues to be young.
Their eyes are in contact the entire time they speak with each other. Topics of conversation range from river rapids to weddings to other people’s children. He doesn’t have a car, she loved the music at the wedding, where, perhaps, they met for the first time. They laugh, use their hands to illustrate what they are saying.
Though this couple initially seemed lost and out of place, somehow they more perfect in this coffehouse, and in this life, than the rest of us do.
1 Comment
August 11, 2008 at 12:11 pm
Ooh! Good job!