One hour...one stolen hour in which to get away from the realitites of my daily life and take myself to lunch at a little cafe I've been wanting to try. No time to do this, other than hours I steal from an already hectic day.
Although lunch with company is nice, being alone has it's benefits. I can sit quietly and focus on getting some words down that have been bouncing around inside my head all morning. Once I commit them to paper they become more concrete, become part of my reality.
I can also indulge in one of my favorite solitary pastimes: people-watching. This seems to be a good place for it.
There is the man sitting directly in front of me. He is odd-looking; his features slightly off center, his hair in need of a comb. He is on him computer, laughing, smiling, typing enthusiastically. Checking his MySpace? Maybe...but I tam more inclined to think he is IMing his friend from work, the one he is secretly interested in. But he's always been the slightly weird, slightly off-center work friend, so she IMs him, confident that she means more to him than vice versa. He is the one that girls confide in about their love life and their secret desires to get a boob job. He is not the one they love.
My hair stylist is here. She hasn't noticed me yet. She is blonde today, her hair styled in a short, modern bob with bangs. The last time I saw her, she had shoulder length dark hair. I haven't seen her, though, since I had my baby. A lot can change in 6 months. She is with a man, which is interesting since last time I saw her she was dating a woman. I'll have to ask her about that next time I see her.
The three women sitting to my right are discussing their children, husbands, ex-husbands and vacation plans. The all seem to have many of each. The brunette with the bling keeps mentioning her son-in-law "you know, he is a professor at MIT". She's pretty impressed with his faculty appointment at MIT. "He's only 35, you know." Apparently, he went to Princeton for his undergraduate degree and Stanford for his graduate work. I want to ask her what he studied, what his dissertation was on, is he published?
There is a couple on my left who are going through a rough time. He looks angry and she has that haunted, trapped look that women in unhappy relationships acquire. I recognize the look; I've seen in myself before. Watching them makes me sad...sad that relationships are so hard, that the joy that once was felt between two people somehow morphs into this sludge that actually changes how they look. He is curt with the waiter and she shoots him a reproachful glare. "Be nice" she hisses at him when the waiter turns his attention to someone else. "I am" he shoots back. "He's an idiot and he is going to get the order wrong". She looks away, not knowing how to change the course of this conversation. He looks at her, annoyed, and then shifts his gaze to his phone. He is recieving a text message that is much more important than his conversation with her. This exchange is familiar to me. I've been in it before. I pause, and silently offer up a request for the Universe to offer this woman some peace, a reprieve from her unhappiness, a chance to find the path that is right for her. Then I offer a prayer of thanks that I no longer resemble that woman. I found my peace, my reprieve, my chance. I am grateful.
It's funny how much we can see of ourself when we look at others. Further proof that we are all connected. That we are all one.
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