As I drove along Cambria Street on my way to work, I stopped at the stop sign at 7th Street and watched as a van passed along 7th street in front of me. It was one of those smaller white bus vans. The same type that would arrive dutifully every morning picking my grandmother up for the senior center. The sun shone through the bus to reflect its passengers. The sun was shining so bright that I could only make out silhouettes, as if there were thick, black cardboard cutouts in the van with a huge spotlight beaming through it. In the fleeting moment, I made out wiry, curly hair on the old ladies, a set of glasses, and a fedora. The gentleman wearing the fedora had stood up momentarily giving me just enough time to capture his tall frame, his shoulders boxy from what I imagined was a suit jacket.
I had a flash, as if I knew this gentleman, and was a fly on the wall of his bathroom this morning....
There he stands in front of his ivory sink looking into his small square mirror, the yellow wallpaper slightly peeling around the edges. He's an older gentleman with deep brown skin, and long wrinkles that could tell a story of their own. He adjusts his silver wire frame glasses that encircle his kind brown eyes. He reaches up with his soft, veiny hands to delicately smooth his hair. He smiles as he takes his favorite grey fedora, which matches his favorite grey suit. His enthusiasm for life beams from behind those soft brown eyes. He is proud of himself, his life, his regular old Thursday morning. It doesn't have to be a special occasion to wear that suit or that fedora. It just has to be today. Today is a celebration.
I had a flash, as if I knew this gentleman, and was a fly on the wall of his bathroom this morning....
There he stands in front of his ivory sink looking into his small square mirror, the yellow wallpaper slightly peeling around the edges. He's an older gentleman with deep brown skin, and long wrinkles that could tell a story of their own. He adjusts his silver wire frame glasses that encircle his kind brown eyes. He reaches up with his soft, veiny hands to delicately smooth his hair. He smiles as he takes his favorite grey fedora, which matches his favorite grey suit. His enthusiasm for life beams from behind those soft brown eyes. He is proud of himself, his life, his regular old Thursday morning. It doesn't have to be a special occasion to wear that suit or that fedora. It just has to be today. Today is a celebration.