She was the kind of woman who wore rainbow- rimmed glasses and multi-colored nail polish.
She always had a smile on her face and a pep in her step. She always had some witty saying on a sticker or a wall or a t-shirt. She was the kind of woman who radiated warmth, not because you reciprocated it, but because the fire was already burning inside of her. Her kindling had come from an unknown source. Some assumed she’d had one of the last remaining childhoods of freedom, while others believed some trauma was to blame, either blocked or processed with just the right therapist who worked wonders upon her psyche.
You don’t know the answer, of course. And isn’t it fun not to know? Isn’t it enough to bask in the joy of a woman picking at the veggie platter beside you at some local fundraiser, and guess? Get lost in the kaleidoscope of color and skip all the way home.
