Hear Jim’s Red Clay Diary podcast: https://youtu.be/mhE9ga0QCnA
or read his transcript:
FINE CHINA FACE
Once upon a time or two, way back when, my happy day at the shop is interrupted by the entrance of a customer from some far-away harsh place. She seems so lonely and isolated. I have to take note. I have to record her presence in case I never see her again, in case you never have a chance to meet her…
Her face is like fine china, only it is more like old china, the pale white nearly transparent china that looks as if it would break into a million pieces should you drop it .
Her face looks like brittle pale white china that has indeed incurred stress fractures throughout its surface. Tiny dark lines run delicately about, some parallel, some crossing, some ending abruptly. Like those tiny thin lines that a fortune teller will pay close attention to in the palm of an old withered hand.
She walks steadfastly into the shop. Her gait is the gait of a young woman. Her body is the body of a young woman.
But her face. Oh, her face.
Her face, though obviously young, has been stress-fractured like fine old china, and she is holding that face stiff and straight as if she knows for certain that the act of smiling or even of frowning will cause a million-pieced shattering.
Her face seems frozen into this image that her mind extrudes through her pores, and now she might never smile again, lest she become tiny sparkling flak whirlpooling itself to the impersonal ground where it can never be assembled again in just the same way, the way it once started out.
And so she keeps the expression and holds together the fine piece of china that she is. She is intent upon making it through the day. Or making it through the events that have caused her to decide to stay in one expression, regardless, till something better or something worse comes along.
The fine china woman is just one beautiful solitude on one beautiful day at the shop. She will be followed by other beautiful solitudes as the day goes by. She deserves my attention and your attention. What kindnesses may come from us when we notice? What kindnesses do these beautiful solitudes deserve? What kindnesses will they never experience should you and I fail to heed their deserving presence?
It’s another beautiful day in Mr. Reed’s neighborhood
© by Jim Reed 2020 A.D.