I am exhausted at the end of each week, having dealt with humans in all their retail colors, some of whom either need an ass whooping or simply, a manners colonic, and the three owners for whom I work who seem to have forgotten what it is like to be "a worker among workers." I was having a good hair day and taking care of business. I was glad to be out of the drama zone.
I turned the Mini down Geary, thinking I would just drive by and see. What was I gonna see? What was I gonna feel? Putter, putter down a street lined with manicured lawns and tidy planter boxes in a suburb that held the rich kids of the high school where my sisters and I spent our not so great teen years. I love this area, knowing that I once came close to buying a house here. I still feel like it calls my name. Putter, putter to roll by the house I was looking for and see a small woman standing on a planter box, turn slightly and dismiss me.
I puttered past, my heart beating a bitter faster and thought, it must be her but do I have the address correct? I flipped a U turn and decided to buck up and park across the street. I got out and walked across the street to the driveway. She did not turn from the window and I approached. She stopped and turned to me when I asked, "Do you recognize me?"
And so began a reconnection of almost 50 years since I was my older sister's younger one and the friend she had who was The Homecoming Queen. She was gracious and warm, even in her immense grief, and took me on a tour of her mother's house and backyard that are still sharp in my child's eye. Her mother died this winter and I wrote a brief note out of great respect, sadness and gratitude for the woman who showed me love and kindness during a sorrowful time for our family.
We sat in the kitchen, where Mrs. Oliva baked cookies for me and offered what may have seemed like a simple kindness to a shy, quiet me but was, indeed, a poultice for my broken heart. Mrs. Oliva turned, saw me and loved me and I never forgot her presence. Sitting in that kitchen, listening to stories about a family and a life, much different from mine, yet lived so close by, gave me wings today in order to see the view from Mrs. Oliva's kitchen.
I am buoyed by the idea that what we do in life has lasting effects upon those we encounter. A small act of kindess can last decades and perhaps, a lifetime. Why not start now?
