I know what I look like. What I appear to be. When my clothes and hair hang a certain way. When I have a tired look. Woken up at 4 am, to bed at 1 am. Not a lot of sleep, a long drive to the airport, a long drive back.
I know what I look like. As I stand in line and ask for a kolache, my mind on other things. The bread I need to buy, the milk. The coffee? Or should I save my money?
I know the self-consciousness when a man comes up behind me in line, asks for a kolache and pronounces it kol-a-chi. Not kolash. I must have said it wrong. Too tired and dazed to care too much, but self conscious a little.
I know what I look like. What I appear to be. When you ask me whether I want my kolash warmed or not, and I say no thank you and then change my mind. As you warm my kolash, as the man comes up behind me and my self-consciousness rises, waiting for you to bring me my food. I know what I look like.
My hair is dry, my glasses red. My hair sticks out from the side some, as if I’ve just gotten out of bed. You don’t know where I’m coming from, I know what I look like. You think I’m on a road trip, my look a result of that. Or do you think I just woke up, live close by, and just desperately wanted a kolache?
You bring me my food, I thank you and am about to turn around and leave. A second, and you smile, and you say, “Have a nice day.” Your warmth pours out with the words, your gentleness. I know what I look like. What I appear to be. You see me as a little girl, an innocent. Sweet, kind, kind of tired. Who knows why I look so tired? So bed-head-ed? And I smile back at you, a little. Embarrassed by your kindness, by what I know you think.
“You too.” Little more than a kid you seem. You might be younger than me, but appearances determine so much. I am hypnotized by you; a kid, so young. So sincere, so genuine in your kindness toward me. Kind, so kind.
As I walk away from you and toward the bread, a melody. And words, powerful words. But repetition doesn’t take away from life. So I guess right now here’s another one. After all, we’ve been on repeat since the beginning of human life.
“It’s been said and done.
Every beautiful thought’s been already sung.”