The Blue Eyed Stranger

Yesterday I just had one of those mornings. I was running late, I ripped a hole in my tights and I forgot my umbrella. Rain pouring and coat over my head, trying to talk to my boyfriend on the phone while running, in heels, for shelter, I was fed up. I was fed up with that morning, fed up that no one had yet invented ladder-free tights and fed up with the same mundane morning that replayed itself again and again and again.

Waiting at the bus stop and now trying to take my mind off things, I reached for my phone and glanced through a few articles. Unfortunately, this just added to my frustration as I learned of continuous unjust and wrong doing by people that are supposed to be there to protect us. Feeling frustrated and deep in thought a ladies voice interrupted my chaotic mess of internal rage.

‘‘Aren’t you cold?’’ she asked, stopping right in front of me with the most piercing blue eyes I had ever been lost in. Explaining I had ripped my tights we started to talk about the weather. Those darkened thoughts I had been trapped in just a few moments ago started to leave and simultaneously my mood was being lifted.

‘‘I’m 83, you see’’ she stated still staring up at me with these beautiful blue eyes. ‘‘Even though I have lost all of those people close to me, I get up, I get up and I wear the scars, but I get up and I keep going.’’

She told me how her husband had died in her arms and she had witnessed so many loved ones leave her. She told me how she had to deal with her precious daughter’s battle with breast cancer. She told me pages and pages of her stories in a way that became imprinted on me, like ink on lined paper.

Pointing at my bus and apologising that our conversation had to end, this stranger, turned friend, grabbed my hand, reached up on her tip-toes and kissed me on the cheek. ‘‘Stay warm’’ she said as we parted ways.

I probably won’t ever see that blue eyed lady again; I don’t even know her name. But after just a few moments with her she allowed me to see everything in perspective again, and clearly. Suddenly my morning didn’t feel as bad anymore and I was instantly reminded of how grateful I am for each one of my blessings.

There are certain glimpses from people, however small, that restore my faith in humanity and this was one of them. We get so lost in our own world that sometimes we don’t take a second to think about what others may be feeling, what their internal fight is, or why they look so sad. We get consumed with what’s happening in our life, our future, or what’s happened in our past.

This lady let her past ignite my present and inspired me at a time I needed it most, and for that I’m thankful.

By Tasha Artwell