Becoming aware of my surroundings, touching them in my mind and describing them in my journal is not the easiest of tasks. Growing up I learned to do the exact opposite, except maybe being aware of my surroundings. But to write about real people still makes me uncomfortable to a degree. Oh, and ‘don’t stare’. That really is important. I suspect I'd be kicked out of coffee shops if that were the case.
I will tell you some of what my coffee shop foray was today. Only two women in the same area as the one I chose. Greying hair, slender, casually dressed. They were playing cards, I think it was cribbage. There was another woman, white hair, neatly dressed, sitting alone until, while I was finishing my scone, she was joined by three others. Voices clear, their conversation was about the recent visit by the Pope. The range of ages would be late 50’s to mid 70’s. My guess only. Lastly, two other people sat at the table beside me. Mid 50’s possibility, a man and a woman. Both slender people.
Learning the art of describing facial features, for instance, is part of these lessons and needs lots of work. I could look at my own face in the mirror, but that there’s not much variety there. The characters that inhabit stories and novels are in need such variety. Each real person has their own story. I have a long way to go, but as long as there are coffee shops and restaurants, public parks and shopping malls I will be able to see and hear the grand variety of humanity. I just need to tailor my childhood lessons to respect others and to learn the nuances of my fellow humans.
“Sitting there in the coffee house, I saw so many stories
behind the lips of people who had left them untold.”
~ Lidia Longioro, Hey Humanity
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