Her pale green eyes gazed out at her surrounding without truly seeing what lay before her. She systematically without thought or feeling plucked small clumps of hair from her thick, wavy, salt and pepper mane; twisting the bits into wads and stuffing them into the front pocket of her jeans.
She sat with the book, Resume Writing for Dummies, draped across her lap and on occasion would glance at the pages intently and take a note or two before returning her blank gaze outward, sipping her hot coffee intermittently. Her expressions were as blank as her stare.
What was going on behind that placid, but sad face? What thoughts were forming; what decisions were being made?
Moving with halting steps and small ticks of her head she whispered disapproving messages to herself as she made her way out the door, to her car and slowly, ever as haltingly, drove away.
Her pain was palpable to me. The way she pulled her hair out made me wince and twisted my stomach. I watched her and felt her heartache. And yet, she was all but invisible to everyone else there.
I wondered if there was anything I could have done; something I should have done. But I did nothing. It seemed she had a mental illness of some sort. It was apparent that she was wrestling some demon in her mind; working hard to keep the destructive forces at bay.
Did she win the battle that day? I'll probably never know. I'm a regular at that coffee shop, but it was the first time I'd ever seen this woman. What brought her there to that coffee shop to sit and ponder life as she gave deep, yet fleeting, thought to the Resume Writing for Dummies spread open across her lap?
I often think of her when I look at the chair that she once sat in; and I wonder about her whereabouts, her mental health, whether she had a spouse or kids and what her resume held.
On Wednesday, I'll explore legal issues regarding parents with mental illnesses. Tune in again tomorrow. Over and out...
Anna
Beautiful, moving, vivid writing!!! Thanks!
Posted by: TLM | Tuesday, November 15, 2011 at 07:27 PM