Your Future in a Face

There is a wren making a house just off the front porch. I love love love the sound of a wren. I hope they raise their babies there.

Yesterday I drove on a class field trip. Emma is in a school "interest group" this week called "Hand Made", where they've learned to make paper, bind a journal, crochet, sew a stuffed animal, etc. They've talked about how man-made doesn't mean hand-made, and the field trip was to our local free trade store, called Just Goods. It's a wonderful store, started by a man named Stanley Campbell, who is the leader of a local Urban Ministry group. Any profits the store makes are funneled back into helping the local neighborhood (previously known for prostitution), through re-habbing houses to rent as low-income housing, sponsoring local musicians and artists, and just generally keeping the neighborhood safe. He met us at the store to talk to the kids about the difference between free-trade and fair-trade.

While we were there, a very old woman came in to shop. Now, I'm tall, at 5'10". This woman was really, really short --she was inches shorter than Emma who was just measured at 5'3". She had the misfortune to come in just as we were wrapping up our visit, which meant most of the kids were making small purchases. She got into line behind me and Emma. I looked over at her, smiled, and said "Sorry it's so busy," my way of saying excuse-me for all the kids. She looked at me. Definite eye contact, kind of expressionless, like she was considering what I was, kind of scientific, but not mean. She didn't say anything, so I went back to minding my own business. My overall impression was that she didn't really feel it was worth her energy to engage in conversation at that moment. Or maybe she was just awed by what a giantess I am.

Once all the kids riding with me were finished, and we were back in the car, I spent a few minutes looking up the school's address so I could put it into the GPS (yes, this is how often I go to "town"). In the middle of this process I looked up, and she was on the walk in front of my car, staring at me. She was just staring at me, still not much of an expression. She didn't look mad, but she didn't look pleased either. After a moment, I realized that she was waiting for me to back out so she could get in her car. Now, I wasn't parked uber-close to her, and I'd spent enough time in the car already that she could easily have gotten in. And I'm not the kind of person who would zoom backwards out of a space while an old lady was clambering into her car, (this was a huge SUV, and I did wonder if she'd need a ladder to get in). I don't think I look like that kind of person, but perhaps I'm wrong.

So, I apologized and backed out into the parking lot, where I could fumble with my GPS without being in anyone's way.

It occurred to me later that afternoon that I will likely become just like that old woman. Only taller.