but I'm just a woman

I, on occasion, tend to help people that I would never ever want to see again. The ones that when I see God up close I'm going to say, "can I have this one time please let me just tell them how it is." The kind you don't want to hold your tongue and slap them a little without any repercussions.

I have a habit of saying the same words when helping people, so one day a few years back I did my usual one on one conversation with someone that became my customer. He began to get irritated by me and told me that I shouldn't be speaking to him in the first place because I was a woman. How should I expect him to answer me when I was but a woman. You see that is the day I might have showed him that a woman might just one up his intellectual game. You see he speaks with an accent but his English is getting better. He forgets that he is not in his home country where women are belittled. He forgets that if  I actually knew what he did for a living and I had the will power I would, and could become his boss. But I try not to let this man's way of life get to me. Because he doesn't know me and it's more out of pity to think he might have daughters and wonder how he is with his wife. Just a miserable man.

a photo I took of graffiti art down Deep Ellum

I've been sick this past week. I hate when I'm sick. I feel weak and hate that I don't want to do anything or go anywhere. I don't know if Heather likes the break with social life that makes me want to hide from the world when I'm sick.

That special person came in today, the one that I always pray just a little extra when I see him. He assumes his facial position as I try not to roll my eyes while looking at him. I try not to speak to him, the less the better. I've been taking all kinds of medicines from me being sick so haven't yet fully gained my strength. I'm having to lift a big box probably fifty pounds possibly more from him dropping it off. Remember a woman to him is but an object. So he won't lift a finger to help. Just steps back to watch me struggle. But remember I prayed extra to God to not let this man see me fail. I said God help me not show weakness. I picked that box up like if it had weighed but five pounds with both my arms. He didn't say a word. He thought I couldn't do it. He thought I was but a woman. I showed him, didn't I.

You see I seem to be but just a woman. A woman without strength. A woman that would need, in his case, a man to help me. A woman that can only be allowed to cook, to clean, and to obey. But he was wrong. I am a woman that hides my strength because I only need it at times to prove that a woman can be, and is as strong as a man. So with time he will see that he is but a pitiful man. Just that...a man. For this woman had one up her sleeve. I took weight training back in my college years and even though some of my belly fat has gotten in the way I still have tricks up my sleeve. A woman can also work towards something, the same as a man.  Through weight training I proved to be just as strong or stronger than him.

So with the help of the skills and my extra praying to God, I got him today, for it was a mighty glorious but small victory. Yet the victory of a WOMAN on this national woman's day.

paper rocks scissors

It's almost late but not late enough to catch dinner at a restaurant. A family eatery, not where you go up to the counter, but have a server bring you refills and takes your order.
 

I'm facing Heather and behind her there sit two grandparents with two grand kids, a boy and a girl.
The children seem to be of ages six and eight. They engage in physical activity. They show embrace to the little ones. They sit and talk and give their attention to them as if on a date with their grand kids. I'm assuming the parents to the kids also enjoyed the evening off. They show love towards their elders as their elders do to them.  Next time I look up she is playing paper rocks scissors with her granddaughter. They stop to giggle at who won. They do this a few more times then I leave them be.

Across a table from them a father, a mother, and two teenagers I'd say ages twelve and fourteen sit.
They haven't made eye contact. They probably don't bother to ask dad how his day was from working and what mom did while they were at school or vice versa. It was just your typical evening dinner. No laughter, no communication, just all glued to their devices in their hands. You see the dad look at his daughters then look up to a blank stare. I wonder if he is thinking I hope my food comes quickly. Then slowly he begins to also share the same interest and looks down at his device. His girls are growing up without even knowing how to hold a conversation with another individual.

Have we failed ourselves by allowing us to be that boring that we have to see what others are doing just to survive.

I've been out with family and friends and I do observe who picks up the phone and wonder are you that bored with my presence that I end up having to repeat what I just said. How about saying something so meaningful to me that I want to see a reaction of what I've said but get nothing because what a total stranger said was more important than what I had to say.

Sorry I went of into a personal vent there. Generations today probably wouldn't know what its like to play paper rock scissors because they know more about the fakeness that social media really is.

I'd want that grandparents feeling at that table, the purity of innocence that the world is slowly losing more than anything, at times especially when people make me sick. I find myself slowly deteriorating life with others just to be true to myself.

Play that game next time you are in company of others, see who picks up that device first. Try to say something while making sure they have your undivided attention other than being that bored of yourself.