After an incredibly stressful morning dealing with two cases of female child angst, one case of husband overload and my own head-case of suppressed fiery rage, I drove into a parking lot near the Santa Monica 3rd street promenade. Luckily its a really short drive because as we all know; you should never drive while texting, putting on makeup, or on fire.
I frequent this particular parking lot quite often and each time I pull in I am greeted by a small, round Latina helping us cranky drivers extract two-hour free tickets out of the machine that is usually an annoyingly tiny distance out of my reach. So I appreciate the help.
This woman grabs my attention because she is often singing spanish hymns. Out loud. And smiling a cheshire cat grin ear to ear. I have wondered if she might be an angel sent to remind us all of our limited view from behind our metal and glass encased little worlds. But then typically, I park my car and life moves on, or maybe it returns – I’m not sure which.
Today this beautiful señorita helped me stay in her light for a few minutes longer than usual. There were no cars behind me, so I held my foot on the brake, turned off my stereo and told her how her presence always makes my day and how I love her happiness and her singing. She smiled a very toothy grin and sort of danced over to my car. “How can you not be happy when we have the Father up above and this beauty all around us,” she asked me in a heavy accent. I just stared at her feeling tears well up in my eyes. Then she put her hands on the outside of my car, closed her eyes and sang to me. It was the closest I will ever come to holy communion. For a brief (now slightly embarrassing) moment I felt like a baby hearing her mother’s lullaby.
I blinked back my tears and in my best spanglish told her, “Gracias, mi amiga. Muchas Gracias. Vaya con Dios.” She sang out softly, “Tambien tu, mi niña. Tambien tu.”
~ con amor y luz, jrb