Lately. And then...

Lately these Mindy Smith lyrics have been on repeat in my head...

All the busy people keep walking away

Like they can't see me or anything

Everyday it gets a little harder

To believe in magic and people

And then, today…

I hear the door scrape open, the sound nibbling at my skin. I look up and see a white stick extending from his hand. He takes three medium-sized steps into the coffee shop but he's still two medium-sized steps from the counter. He stands there comfortably but I immediately tense. I am sure no one will notice. The line is forming to his left yet he is nowhere near. People enter behind him and get in line, adding to its length. They don’t see, they don’t see, I think, silently shrieking, don't you dare don't you dare pass him up…And just when I'm about to leap from my seat, the guy who is next up at the counter, leans out of line, puts a light hand on the man's shoulder and draws him in. That's when I start crying. They step up to the cashier and she says 'Hi Jose,' and takes his order. I keep crying as people thoughtfully move around him, anticipating his next move, unceremoniously, and without haste. No one scrambles, no one says anything stupid, no one is awkward or overly helpful. When he bumps into a chair at the table next to me, the woman gracefully slides her laptop and papers out of the way. She says, 'That seat is free,' and Jose says 'Thank you,' and sits, folding up his white stick. When the barista calls out his name, Jose stands before I can, but this kid has already grabbed the coffee and is at Jose's side saying 'I got it. You want a sleeve on the cup?' The kid says it naturally and Jose says 'Yes, thank you,' and the kid grabs one and slips it on. Jose receives his drink and turns toward the door. A woman is already there, saying, 'I've got it' and Jose smiles and walks out into the world.

Magic and people.

Día de Muertos

Remembering...

In the gym locker room, a girl is standing at the mirror fluffing her recently curled hair. The smell throws me back to my sisters, side by side in our powder blue bathroom, just one for all seven of us. On school day mornings, I would wait my turn and study them, blonde curls and brown curls. With arms lifted shoulder high, crooked at the elbows, they wound AquaNet-ed strands around shiny hot wands until they sizzled. I would try to catch Karin’s eye in the mirror to see if she’d signal. ‘Comehere,’ she’d say, one word, and I’d leap within reach of her masterful hands, knowing, I’d have my own curls or braids or barrettes to enjoy for the rest of the day.

In the bookstore there is an Oxford dictionary laying open on the sale shelf. I drag my fingers across the flimsy pages. They remind me of the Bible's at my childhood church and how, every Sunday, our family slipped in late. On the rare occasion my parents forgot to sit between me and my brother, Kerry would slide in after me on the smooth wooden pew, determined to catch momentum. Of course, I would squeal and get ‘the look’ from my mom, and Kerry would put his finger to his lips in a silent shhhhh. Half of the time I was purely perturbed. But the other half, I was knee to knee with my big brother, trying to hold half the hymnal and hear him sing.

Kerry had a laugh that burbled with mischief...  

Karin's smile surprised when it flew open wide...