Big Sunglasses
It was early on a Wednesday morning. I had just finished my walk—the uphill 3.5 mile track that I do most every day. I was hot and needed some cold water, so I stopped at the store on my way home.
There I was, in my jogging shorts and tank top, a ball cap, no makeup, my hair extra kinky from the humidity, and my face beat red from the heat.
And there she was, in her slim fitting white slacks, high heel stiletto shoes, huge black sun glasses, and bright red lips. She was stunning, and as poised and cool as a cucumber.
She entered the store right in front of me and walked with more swag and confidence than I’ve ever been able to muster up. Head high. Smile wide. Beautiful!
Her hair was short, spiked, and gave her a sophisticated, but sassy look. She had a sheer wrap that gathered loosely around her shoulders— it was vibrant and as colorful as a garden full of spring flowers. Her earrings hung heavy on her little ears and sparkled of turquoise and gold. I walked just close enough to catch her scent— a mixture of honey and roses.
Her slim frame looked a bit fragile, but she was sturdy on her feet. I’m not sure how she walked so easily in those heels, but she never missed a step.
I realize I’m staring as I’m waiting next to her in the checkout line. I laugh at myself for being so intrigued by this attractive woman. She must be every bit of 85 years old with her brilliant smile, perfectly wrinkled, tan skin, and oh so glamourous! As if sensing my interest, she turns to me, tips up her big sunglasses so our eyes meet, and gives me a quick wink. I choke back the tears that came rushing in for no apparent reason, and smile back at her. Not a forced, polite smile. A real smile that came straight from my heart. She turned quickly back to the cashier and finished her business. She then instructed the bagger to carry her groceries out to her car, and added “Be careful not to drop anything”. She didn’t wait for him to respond, she just gathered her purse, adjusted her glasses, and headed for the door knowing full well that the bagger would follow her. And he did. I noticed he was smiling too— Smart young man.
I have a birthday coming up soon and I’ll be turning 57, but I’m not worried about it. Not today, anyway. I’m no longer thinking about the wrinkles I see appearing on my face, or the gray hair I notice every time I look in the mirror. Nope! Today I’m feeling excited. Elated, actually, because I want to be just like her.