I recently had the opportunity to escort Gillian to an appointment she had. I say escort because I can no longer "take" people places. While I waited for her to finish up I sat by a big window which gave me fulll view of the parking lot two floors below. From my vantage point I could see into the driver side window of a car that sat a woman who I presumed was waiting for her child as well.
I watched as she did ordinary things. She reached into her purse and took out some hand lotion. The tube must have been almost empty as she struggled to get the last bit out. Finally she got enough out to be satisfied, recapped the tube, and spent a few minutes rubbing the lotion into her skin. I imagined that this was a regular routine for her as the tube was almost empty, and her hands were soft and supple.
Next she pulled out a hairbrush and spent a moment freshening up her hair. She moved the rear view mirror around so she could see herself better. She reached into her purse a third time to return the hairbrush and take out what looked like a chapstick. She shifted her body forward to get a better view in the mirror and spent what I deemed longer than necessary applying this to her lips.
After she put the chapstick away she paused for a few moments. Maybe she was thinking about the child she was waiting for or what she was going to make for dinner or the papers piling up on her desk at work. Maybe she was worried about her mother or the mole on her husband's back or the six loads of laundry that had appeared overnight. She put all that aside and pulled out a magazine and began to skim through it.
I lost interest. I put my head back and closed my eyes for a bit. I was once this woman, when I could "take" instead of escort; when I could reach for things like lotion tubes and hairbrushes and they weren't ridiculously heavy. I once worried about piles of paperwork, but now I worry about feeding tubes and handicapped accessible bathrooms.
My eyes opened with the sound of a door slamming. My new "friend" was out of her car, arms over head, stretching her body. She was wearing her work clothes - an a-line skirt, brown boots, and a peach short sleeve blouse. She leaned down to rub something from her boots. She began to slowly pace back and forth in the parking lot, reading something on her aqua blue phone. I wondered whether she was reading a text or checking Facebook or catching up on work emails.
I closed my eyes again. I didn't want to watch her anymore. I began to feel envious of this stranger and I didn't like the feelings and the tears that were starting to well up. They were not something I could afford right now. So I began to meditate, my focus starting with the big blessings in my life. And then I heard "hi mom" and my eyes opened and it was okay.