She was out of place at the convenience store Subway. I saw her sit down at a tall bar stool table inside.
She wasn’t eating, but had a small Styrofoam cup of coffee that she wasn’t drinking.
Her silver blue hair was perfect, in every way, and she was wearing her Sunday best dress complete with a little pearl necklace and old fashioned black, block heel dress shoes.
She was tall and slender, and her glasses seemed to be part of her face, like they’d been there for years.
She just stared out the window with a faint smile on her face. She didn’t look distressed, worried, not even lonely, but somehow you got the feeling she was alone most of the time.
She wasn’t doing a thing to draw attention to herself, but in a store where workers were grabbing lunches and log trucks were fueling up, she stuck out like a pink carnation in the middle of a poison ivy patch.
I debated about speaking to her, but it just seemed wrong to disturb her.
She looked like she was living, or maybe re-living, life, memories, all in black and white color.
The revelation of her face spoke resolve, but the song of her spirit sang yesterday.
She was dancing in the joys of experiences past, while scribbling mental memoirs for future days.
All the while, she stared out the wall size windows at a big red Texaco sign, but her eyes didn’t see it. It was just a movie screen for her heart.
I wondered if someone was sitting beside her, invisible to the eye, but sitting there nonetheless.
Maybe a chorus of beings were sitting and surrounding her, swinging to the rhythm of her soul, tickling her heart’s funny bone, maybe whispering in her ear.
When there’s more miles behind you than in front, the rear view mirror can look good, but you can’t drive in the rear view mirror.
Then again, when you know more people in heaven than you know on earth, perspectives change.
Life can be kind. Life can be cruel. Life can be both at the same time.
Maybe it’s just a matter of perspective. I don’t know.
I wonder if one day we too may find ourselves out of place in a convenience store in the middle of our own déjà vu recalling life’s good and bad, thoughts and memories, crushed hope, rekindled dreams.
I hope she liked what she saw, and how she sees.
If I, if you, find yourself staring out a window deep in thought one day, may your heart be like this lady’s. May you too have a faint, yet distinct déjà vu smile on your face as you dance in peace to the rhythm of days gone by.