This morning I was writing at my favorite coffee shop when a cute little elderly woman with big, bright eyes and rosy cheeks sat down at the table across from me. She pulled a sketch book out of her bag and began looking around the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her look in my direction, study my posture intently, smile, and begin sketching.
We sat there next to each other for nearly four hours while she sketched and I wrote. And as I shifted back and forth, captivated in thought, I felt a bit self-conscious sometimes. Because I could feel her watching me as she practiced her art.
But I wasn’t too worried because I hadn’t planned on striking up a conversation with her. After all, she seemed absolutely satisfied sketching in silence, and smiling at her sketches and at all the other people who surrounded us. I did, however, glance up a few times just to see her smile. Because her smile expressed a kind of passion and presence I seldom see.
As the clock neared noon, a new customer came into the coffee shop and let a gust of wind in the front door. The wind blew a completed sketch right off the elderly woman’s table and onto the floor directly in front of me. The sketch was (more…)
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