One of my favorite pastimes, especially when traveling (pig in mud (part 3)), is to people watch and make up stories about their lives based on behaviors and/or interactions that I observe. Truth be told, this started a long time ago as an escapism, a coping mechanism for me during my younger days, vacillating between creating stories of joy as a form of hope and of misery as a form of company.
I used to sit at my window in New York City and look down at the "ants" flitting about the sidewalks. From my second floor window at Brittany Dorm, I generally could also overhear conversations. Most of the time, I was left to my imagination. Today, I decided to venture into the sunshine (first time since the lunch in moments that matter (part 5) that ended up wiping me out for much of the last couple of days). After all, I needed to learn to walk again before I ran, and my work wife gently reminded me that perhaps the lack of sugar in my diet contributed to my lethargy.
While standing in line at Boba Guys, my eyes were initially drawn to a couple. Neither individually were striking but as a couple, they were. Both had distinct features but also looked as if they were "mutts" in their own way, with the gentleman having light eyes despite his Middle Eastern look, and the woman seemed of Asian descent but some European features. He was caught up in eating while she seemed distracted. At first, I had thought they looked like a couple that was on their first date.
I am so used to children today, like my nieces and nephews, who engross themselves in electronic gadgets to entertain themselves, that it seemed a bit at odds that the children were actually having engaging conversations with each other, while the couple were having their individual moment. Once he finished his meal, he reached out and caressed her hand across the table, lost in their own love language. I was so immersed in the visual before me that I was never quick enough to catch a good photo.
While the sunshine, sugar and walk (although I did have to stop to catch my breath a few times) were good for the healing of my body, the family was a beautiful start to healing my soul.
No comments:
Post a Comment