I smile because that face of mine cannot.
I quickly sit at the empty table with expectation.
I know who will come!
My beloveds.
They'll order something egg-ie they tell me,
if that's what I'd like. With coffee. I wait.
Youth sees me. And Youth is impulsive.
And youth struggles mightily with the way it is, mightily!
Youth fights for rights, thank goodness,
because I think youth must find solutions to wrongs.
Someone old said I am a youthful elder.
Old age defined so tactfully.
So move, I'm told, there are 5 before me needing that table.
It is their right because they are first, he says.
Youth scouts the room and scolds, fights for rights.
Shames me.
My pleased self stutters to a stop. Confusion is the new friend of my youthful-elder mind I now can see. Deafness prevents me from hearing his reality, his vision, and because I'm old I sit in that confusion, alone, un-hearing. And I see the room blur.
Reality and understanding has always been my false god. But it leaves me now. Can the real God let me lie here alone in the blurry confusion? Defending girl. I thank that very God that you are here; you step beside me. The world doesn't spin as much for you and now me with your presence. You are solidly on the oak floorboards, assessing the situation.
I am not part of that party, you say, there are not 5 in that party.
Because I am Asian, you think I am with that party, you make it a party of 5 Asian faces with me in it because you are seeing only what you see, not reality. You see only my FACE and put me in that party; not with my husband, mother and father. Step back.
With a beautiful look, she communicates.
Step back, she says.
