Long Time Gone
June 14th, 2009 by rsm
I’m away, off somewhere learning, or so that is the intent of the Army at this time. So many things are so different for right now. So many people I miss.
To put it bluntly, I miss being around people I love and am tired of being around people I’m only just getting to know. Not that there aren’t decent people, there are. A few have touched me, clicked-in to my psyche with a rapidity that alarms.
Where I am now is beautiful. There is no doubt about it. The desert, high mountains, little hidden lakes, sunsets that take your breath away nearly every day, it all adds up to something spectacular. But it’s not my mountain. It’s not the deep, lush green woods that enfold me, whose night-noises that scare others only comfort me. I spend my time off, what time off I can get, hiking in the mountains here. It’s a much greater challenge than at my home, these mountains rising to nearly 10,000 ft. I breathe hard.
But even these small towns where I live are full of interesting people. Granted, many seem to have spent too long outside with the cognitive effects of probable sun-stroke bearing down on their sanity, but the people here are truly pleasant. Most live here because of the beauty, the simplicity, the clean air, and even the challenges posed by living in a potentially deadly environment full of rattlesnakes, scorpions, flash floods, etc. Maybe it’s the javelinas.
Stopping off at a local sandwich shop for “supplies” before heading up on yet another hike, a young man in a wheelchair with difficulty controlling the movements of his limbs greeted me as I entered. It’s his job. He’s proud of his work. Later, when my order was ready, I heard his voice call out in a phonetic semblance of my name. Most places would not have someone like him around as many customers might be uncomfortable by his presence. For me, though, and for many of the locals, he secured my repeat business. The quality of the food was good, though I might have embellished it a touch.
At another counter with napkins, straws, and other disposable accoutrement stood a beautiful woman, probably in her late 70s. Her long, white hair appeared from under a soft pink, wide-brimmed hat, pulled to the back with a small band. It was a mixing of modesty in keeping her hair in place and pride in not hiding it, restricting it under tight shapes done up and tucked away as if ashamed of the extravagance of its length but unable to divest herself of such “sin” with a few well placed clicks of scissors.
Her hat matched her outfit, a long, flowing dress of soft pink, made for the practicality of daily wear as much as for fashion. She looked natural, not as if she were dressing for church, which was another day away. With quick, sure movements she looked about on the counter as I walked up, searching. I stayed to her side for a moment, not wanting to interfere, but eventually my chivalric/chauvanistic side took over.
“Can I help you find anything in particular, ma’am?”
Her gaze landed on the plastic spoons. “No, I think I finally found it, but thank you,” she said gently, reaching for a spoon. She turned towards me, bright green eyes fading to gray looking up at me. She smiled with all her soul, nearly making me take a step back while wanting to reach out and touch her arm. Instead she touched me, so very tenderly on my arm, the kindness of a good heart flowing through her.
“There are so many wonderful people in the world,” she declared to me.
Indeed there are.
If you weren’t such a good soul yourself, you wouldn’t find so many others.
Indeed, there are.