Every morning I take a bus to school and every morning a familiar bunch of strangers appear each day. One morning,as I was standing on a full bus, I noticed an ugly big pink plastic rose, with awful green plastic leaves, perched on top of a very fat unattractive woman's head. Her greasy mousy brown hair, with flecks of gray, was tied in a ram shackle bun, upon which sat this big bright rose. Her face was bloated, the skin sallow, the eyes sunken, under which puffy bags hung. She wore a gray cheap flannel hoodie and sweat pants, faded, stained and worn. Her corpulent flesh sat in roles. And, that fabric she wore was not flattering her figure at all.
She sat alone, looking down, of indeterminate age, and never looked at anyone. My first thought was how awful she looked. I was very critical and thought she probably smelled. I had no proof of it, it felt like she would. I felt a mild distaste for her and a strange sympathy. I got off the bus and paid no heed to my thoughts about this stranger and her big pink plastic flower perched on her head. I forgot her.
I had not seen this woman in ages. But, the other day as I was walking along the street I suddenly thought about this woman and her flower. Why was she on my mind ?, I pondered. Why am I thinking about this poor, fat, ugly woman with no taste in clothes, and who is always alone on a bus stuck on my mind ?. And, my mind focused on that flower in particular.
It is true that her big pink flower made me notice her. She wore it everyday, no matter what. And then it struck me that her rose made her special. It made her beautiful. It is all she had to feel pretty. At least that is what it seemed to symbolize seeing her each morning on the bus. Also, given her attire it is all I think she could afford.
I could not shake this total stranger from my mind. On relfection that cheap plastic pink rose made her feel beautiful no doubt. I know am projecting my own narrative, but it serves a greater purpose. I saw beauty in her. Her flower made me see her very human desire to feel beautiful. No man was buying her gifts from Cartier. She had the aura of one who has been burned by life, not celebrated by it.
Yet, it is a very human need to feel beautiful and in turn to feel worthy of love. She may well be poor, fat, unkempt and maybe unloved. But, that big pink plastic flower sat on her greasy hair and shone bright. It said, to me, " here I am, I am not invisible. I may be cheap and plastic, but am beautiful.See me ."
It was her only claim to beauty. It was not my right to remove that. In fact, she made me a better person that day and the subsequent days I saw her in retrospect. Why ?, because beauty resides in many things. They are not always obvious to the naked eye. There are layers to beauty. When next I see her I will no longer see an ugly fat woman with no taste, but rather a fellow human being, no better or worse then I, who wants to feel beautiful, to be seen and to feel loved, just as I do and as you do. She and her big plastic rose touched my heart, opened my eyes and she will never know that - a familiar stranger.
Peace
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