You know how sometimes certain memories remain crystal clear as though they are trapped in the amber of your consciousness? While I don't know nearly enough about how the brain works, I suspect that means these shards of memory that stay with us are some of the most important events of our lives to be pondered and reconsidered for all that they contain. They might be "teachable moments" for us to draw upon. While the neuroscience aspects of aspic elude me, I do know this memory is a life lesson:
My besties and I like to have a cup of tea now and again and occasionally the fancy kind with teacakes, cupcakes, cookies that are almost too beautiful to eat. During my decade in The Lower Haight, my dear friends got together once a month, taking turns at each other's houses. I was excited to be hosting one lovely late spring day and planned everything to the tee- lemon bars with lime icing, mini-cupcakes with icing that looked like lace and my favorite black and white cookies, chocolate on one side and vanilla on the other. I even had brightly colored paper napkins with sassy wild women quotes on them.
I was working in Berkeley and living in San Francisco which meant that just getting across the Bay Bridge was going to be a an adventure. On this day, it was going to be a miracle. I was terrified my friends would be standing at the front door, stamping their nicely shod feet, waiting for me as I navigated the traffic. I surrendered to it, knowing my anxiety would not change a thing. Plus, I had my secret weapon- the nicest array of confections ever. How could they be mad at me when there were being served stunningly beautiful sugar cookies on napkins that reminded them they are fabulous?
Finally, my lane of traffic oozed off the Fremont exit into Downtown San Francisco. I was going to bust one of my special moves and drive down a one way arterial and avoid the clogged streets. To do that, I had to drive past the TransBay Terminal, one of the most desolate and derelict spots in all of the greater Bay Area. I was chugging along and feeling good about my bag of goodies and was stopped again by a Muni bus that appeared to be lumbering along at maybe 3 miles per hour. But I still had my special treats and my confidence remained intact.
I looked to my left and a mother and her toddler were standing on the raised median not two feet away from my car. She looked to be not much older than a teenager herself and had a big bruise on her cheek and a frightened look. Her little boy was hugging her knee, trying to stay warm in the arctic wind that blasts downtown SF as soon as the sun sets. I smiled at them and she smiled back and I saw she was missing at least one tooth. In this moment, I just knew she has run away from an abusive home and was getting herself and her son to safety. I also knew in that moment that they needed money and I scrabbled around in my messy purse but could only find a five dollar bill as I had spent all my cash on the sweets. I grabbed the pretty paper bag filled with boxes of delicacies and shoved it into her hands along with the wadded up bill. The look on her face was what will stay with me a lifetime, she was surprised and the stress drained out of her face and I could see how pretty she was. The bus shot foreword and I had to drive away but I managed to shout back at her "These are the best cookies in the world so everything is going to be ok!" I looked in the rearview mirror and saw her bend down and open a box and lovingly feed her little boy one of my treasured black and whites. They were laughing and her son was even kind of dancing around. My heart lifted as I drove away. I was especially pleased that this young women was going to be reminded about her fabulousness by sassy paper napkins.
My girlfriends and I ate microwaved popcorn that night by nobody minded. We also ended up having a much deeper and richer discussion about real things, no shop or shopping talk, no boyfriend problems. We talked about how lucky we were and ways we could give back to the world.
It is funny how I knew those cookies were going to save the night. I guess I just didn't know whose.
3 comments:
Wonderful kindness, lovely story.
This is the kind of act that separates a few people from the animals. I'm about halfway--maybe a third--there, but you've given me a nudge.
This story is so beautiful, Brenda. Some of my fondest memories are the times we would form a Transbay carpool by collecting uptight salarymen from the ride share in the broken down Bantymobile, or in my ancient Volkswagen. Some of them would look past us longingly at the Mercedes behind, and shake their head. One fellow kept clearing his throat throughout the whole ride, never speaking a word to us.
I imagine we brought too many bright colors and mirthful laughter into their quiet gray lives.
Post a Comment