When traveling I become a people watcher. I am fascinated by other cultures, how people move within them and the marks left by those cultures.
Left in the Mexico City airport longer than expected, I had ample time to observe the comings and goings of people from all countries. It easily occupied me during my wait.
When entering the restroom during this time I met a woman coming out. She was probably close to my age, but bent by life. Unlike me, she used a cane and moved slowly. Still she caught my attention by the peaceful and happy look on her face.
I looked in the restroom mirror and studied myself in comparision; upright, quick-movingand, and sure of step. When I looked inward and thought of myself in repose I knew that I wear a look of intensity – sometimes read by others as mad or unhappy.
I can write my own story for this.
Once upon a time there was a woman who lives in her head. She spent much time wondering, her mind teasing what she thought of as the great questions of life. Her inner world was chaotic at times as she sought to control her outer world. Although she knew that she had no control, she lived with the illusion that it was her job to try.
In this same time there was a woman whose life had not gone as smoothly. Life had taken a toll on her. She had know physical pain and also much sorrow. She didn’t dwell there, however. She dwelt in the exact moment in which she lived. This moment was good. She was grateful for this goodness, this breath.
I have often said that after a certain age, our faces reflect who we are and how we view life. This, I believe, is the proof of that.