Brave
I may have told this story before, but it came up so strong in my mind this morning I didn't want to forget it.
A few years ago, around Halloween, I took a trip to Disneyland. The line around the Haunted Mansion was packed. My friend Greg was with me, a large bear of a man, a co-worker. We were just chatting about nothing when the people in front of us were suddenly facing us - inches away - as the line turned sharply around the far side of the house.
Watching me was this tall slim woman - willowy. Long thin blonde hair in a long messy braid. She caught my attention because she looked out of place. She was wearing a tiered long skirt and gauzy peasant blouse, both which seemed too big for her. She had a small child clinging to that skirt looking at all the t-shirted tourists with wide almost scared eyes.
The woman smiled politely at me then tapped the hollow of her throat, saying something. I didn't hear her so I leaned a little closer.
"Your necklace. It's beautiful. I don't have that kind of bravery to wear it out like that."
I was wearing my victorian pentacle
"Always wear it, some of us can't. It really is beautiful." She said, a soft smile, then the line moved and I lost her.
We were robbed a month ago and the pentacle was gone. I've replaced it. When I wear it, that woman always comes into my mind. Yes, I am wearing it now. For her, and for me.
A few years ago, around Halloween, I took a trip to Disneyland. The line around the Haunted Mansion was packed. My friend Greg was with me, a large bear of a man, a co-worker. We were just chatting about nothing when the people in front of us were suddenly facing us - inches away - as the line turned sharply around the far side of the house.
Watching me was this tall slim woman - willowy. Long thin blonde hair in a long messy braid. She caught my attention because she looked out of place. She was wearing a tiered long skirt and gauzy peasant blouse, both which seemed too big for her. She had a small child clinging to that skirt looking at all the t-shirted tourists with wide almost scared eyes.
The woman smiled politely at me then tapped the hollow of her throat, saying something. I didn't hear her so I leaned a little closer.
"Your necklace. It's beautiful. I don't have that kind of bravery to wear it out like that."
I was wearing my victorian pentacle
"Always wear it, some of us can't. It really is beautiful." She said, a soft smile, then the line moved and I lost her.
We were robbed a month ago and the pentacle was gone. I've replaced it. When I wear it, that woman always comes into my mind. Yes, I am wearing it now. For her, and for me.