Sunday Scribblings 190: Beauty

At the school near the crosswalk, one side of the street is a drop off and the other side is not.  Friday morning, a car stopped on the wrong side stopping the flow of traffic (which sometimes happens to those who don't know the rules).  The mother jumped out of the passenger side and opened the back door for her student.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, they don't like you to drop off on this side--" I began, as I gripped my crosswalk stop sign.

"I know."  She snapped, and pulled her little girl from the car.  "But thank you for telling me..."

For a second I thought she was being sweet.  I smiled and nodded.

"Because I wouldn't have known if you hadn't TOLD me," she finished sarcastically.

My face fell.  I'm not a person who hides my feelings easily.  My face is sort of a neon sign for my emotions.  I really hate that.  She stomped past me marching her daughter to the school doors.  The person driving her vehicle turned around and came back to retrieve her on the proper side.  I thought of several choice things to say to her as she passed me again, but refrained.  However, I did allow myself to daydream I was a policeman handing her a hefty ticket.

I hate to admit that it bothered me all day.  Which bothered me that it bothered me.

That afternoon, I stood at the crosswalk again.  A beautiful woman holding a sweet newborn baby waited in a van a few feet from me.  I've seen her often. She walks past me almost every day to pick up her children and we always exchange pleasantries.  That day she went the extra mile.  She rolled down her window and began chatting.  She made the effort to find out my name.  She asked if my kids went to school here.  How did I like crosswalking?  Things like that.  She was...kind.

It was soothing.

And probably because her kindness stood in contrast with the hateful woman earlier that day--

It was beautiful too.