The first time I saw the old woman was outside my office. Her skin was browned by the sun and her face was lined with age. She wore a colorful outfit. Her hair was tied in a headscarf. Loose strands of pure white hair escaped the scarf. She looked windblown and cool in the oppressive heat.
She stood very still with her arms outstretched like a bird in flight. She was in the middle of the small parking lot, in the middle of a hot summer day, in old East Dallas.
I approached her tentatively expecting she was a homeless woman wandering the street. I asked her if I could help her. I looked into her eyes. Her eyes were ancient blue. She smiled at me and I felt calm.
“I am standing in the middle of the universe.” It made perfect sense to me. Her accent was hard to distinguish. It sounded almost European.
It occurred to me that she might be an angel. Proof I guess that I have moved off the edge of life’s familiar pages. Her stillness was contagious. We stood together without words. She touched my arm. It was almost like a cool electric shock. “I’m fine,” she smiled again.
I never reached into my pocket to hand her the $2 I planned on giving her. I never offered her water. Somehow I just thought she didn't need anything at all from me.
It was a surreal moment walking away. When I reached the door to the office I turned around and she was gone.
Perhaps there was time for her to catch the 519 down Garland Rd. Maybe she walked around the building and disappeared into July.
I saw her twice after that day. The first time she was in a booth at the China Palace comforting a crying man.
The last time was at the shopping center walking beside a guy I used to know, named Lucky. I imagined she was panhandling but he ignored her. He got into his SUV and drove away.
I looked in her direction and she smiled at me. I fancied she remembered me from the parking lot. Recognition of a reassuring touch by a strange woman knocked my breath away. I walked down the sidewalk to the convenience store. When I turned around, to look for her, she was gone. I knew she would be.
That was the last time I saw Lucky.
There is an old saying..."You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can't pick your friend's nose."
