Through someone else's eyes
There's this woman that I work with that I find to be absolutely fascinating. We'll call her Dianne, and that will serve her well as her name really is Dianne. Dianne is 65 years old and maybe 1oo pounds. She works in the laundry room six days a week. When the Inn was closed after the fire, it was Dianne that I was worried about the most. It wasn't just because I knew that she lived alone and this job was her only source of income. It was more because I knew how much she loves this job and what this place means to her. We are her family here. And to tell someone that they don't have a home to come into for an indefinite amount of time is a pretty hard bomb to drop.
I can never go any significant length of time without stopping to pondering something Dianne says or does. The littest thing makes her happy. She removes a stain from a table napkin and suddenly her hands are raised in the air above her head in a grand gesture of accomplishment. "Alriiight!" she shouts with her hands held high and twirls around in a little circle smiling like a child.
I admire that about her. Sixty-five years on this earth and she still takes pleasure in the little things. I am a big advocate of the little things. I too believe that they should be praised and properly recognized. And yet, she holds an underlying quality of saddness to her.
One day, she told me that love was just a fleeting emotion. That's it. "It doesn't last," she said. "It comes and goes and then it's gone." I remember how I just stood there and stared at her with my heart on the floor. What she said really affected me and I wasn't quite sure why. Was it because I see so much of myself in her and I was sadden to think that she really believed that? Or was it because I myself wasn't sure if what she said might be true? She looked back at me and read the disaggreeable expresssion on my face. She put both hands up in front of her and made a slight bow as she took a step back. It was as if to say to me, "Stop right there. I got this one. It's true. I know it's true. You won't convince me of otherwise so don't even try."
I love that woman.
I can never go any significant length of time without stopping to pondering something Dianne says or does. The littest thing makes her happy. She removes a stain from a table napkin and suddenly her hands are raised in the air above her head in a grand gesture of accomplishment. "Alriiight!" she shouts with her hands held high and twirls around in a little circle smiling like a child.
I admire that about her. Sixty-five years on this earth and she still takes pleasure in the little things. I am a big advocate of the little things. I too believe that they should be praised and properly recognized. And yet, she holds an underlying quality of saddness to her.
One day, she told me that love was just a fleeting emotion. That's it. "It doesn't last," she said. "It comes and goes and then it's gone." I remember how I just stood there and stared at her with my heart on the floor. What she said really affected me and I wasn't quite sure why. Was it because I see so much of myself in her and I was sadden to think that she really believed that? Or was it because I myself wasn't sure if what she said might be true? She looked back at me and read the disaggreeable expresssion on my face. She put both hands up in front of her and made a slight bow as she took a step back. It was as if to say to me, "Stop right there. I got this one. It's true. I know it's true. You won't convince me of otherwise so don't even try."
I love that woman.