A woman comes to a certain stage, even when she’s lived a passionate life, where times get pretty slim that she’ll turn a head. I’m there now and for the most part I’m used to it, this becoming invisible.
So, imagine my reaction today while checking out the price of tuna in the canned goods aisle, when a good-looking, older man gives me a direct, twinkly- eyed smile. Me? Had to be. We are alone in the aisle. A fluke? Gas or perhaps he has a nervous twitch? I move on.
At the check out, he is two aisles away and flashes that secretive, knowing smile one more time. So out of practice being visible, I do the dumb thing, look around to see who he is smiling at now. The store is quite deserted in these wee hours. It’s just us.
He isn’t far behind as I push the loaded buggy into the parking lot. His shiny red truck is right next to my faithful, old Jeep. Is he stalking me? We don’t speak, but along with a small nod don’t I get another of his mischievous smiles full on this time as I load the groceries.
Well, I could have flown home I am so high on being visible again, even if only for that moment or two at the grocery store. My spirits soared. I cranked the volume on the radio, even sang along, and opened the windows letting the wind snarl my graying hair, grinned like an (old) idiot the entire drive home.
When I kicked my shoes off at the front door into the hall closet, the bubble burst. They were both black but didn’t match, one a slip-on, the other a sling-back.
Are you still visible … or not?
