7am. I was leisurely walking to the metro. I live life on my own time. Making plans here and there according to my desires (I'm usually the person that decides where and when.) This particular day I was meeting a buddy of mine at a run-down cafe where I knew the atmosphere to be refreshing and coffee, cheap.
I plugged headphones into my ears to drown out thought. I simply strove to groove out to some tunes as I ventured towards my destination. I knew reason enough to smile.
She couldn't have been more than eight. Passed out by the entrance of the metro. Two men in their 40's, not 10 ft. from her, openly perverting their minds as they stared at the precious little girl. She was laying in the middle of the sidewalk. In the obvious uncomfortable and awkward position that only passing out offers.
Kids in the area I currently live in, sniff glue as a regular antidote to the straight-jacket constraints they face due to their poverty. If she wasn't passed out from that, the causation would be heart breaking nonetheless I'm sure. She wore the familiar attire of a 'street kid', road dirt infesting every crevice. Her neck-long hair bleaching blond from exposure to the sun. (Which labels her enough since most people have black hair here.) Society deems her 'different.' Often different is enough to make us run.
I couldn't help but consider the contrast to her and I. I was humming my happiness away, while Beautiful was unconscious. I walked on by her and waited for my metro, as if my actions were justified. Convincing myself that there's so much conscious sorrow here, sometimes I've just got to pick my fights. Reason being: self-preservation. I was in a really good mood and I didn't want to taint that by hanging out with someone I didn't feel 'ready' to do so with. 'Plus those two guys could have harassed me had I tried to hang out with a kid on the street. They usually do!' I protested. As if her safety and comfort was insignificant next to mine.
Sometimes I decide that my fights are when and where I choose them to be. As if it could possibly be something I just expect and am 'prepared' for.
My caged heart suddenly grew with remorse that literally made me feel sick. My metro pulled up and I stood there for a moment. Contemplating what I should do. Mentally putting myself in and out of that metro that would only wait a few more seconds for me to make a decision. I found myself in a cart among other women, 'my friend's waiting for me! I can't just back out on him now! We've been planning this for ages.' I argued vainly.
The metro jolted us metro-riders toward our day, along with the decisions we'd made on the way. And mine was that I left a little girl open to the abuses that vicious decisions of two men could have morphed into.
Suddenly formality didn't matter. Realizing what I'd done I broke down, then and there. In public.
I told God that I'd go have this coffee quickly, then I'd go back for the girl. As if God would respond 'yea, just do what you'd like. I'll keep her waiting.'
Opportunity rarely waits. Which is why we're taught to discern when it's present.
I had my fill of coffee and conversation that morning. But there was an unbelievable emptiness. As her smile was all I could aspire to see and her remembrance: a constant fixation.
I wish I could say that I stopped and woke her up, dusted off her little deteriorating dress, sat down to chai with her, made her giggle and treated her like the little princess she is (even if it could only be for a little while.) I'm broken at the thought of what could have happened to her that morning. Her existence consumes me. It is times like this I realize I need to - think again. Simple enough an ideology. Stopping in our tracks to do so, another story. We're so focused on our plans and direction, we overlook Beautiful because she is little and convenient to overlook. As if our time means something more than her's. As if sticking to schedule is more important than crossing paths with her.
But let not your story resemble mine.
And they are the hero's. The one's that think again and dare to sit with Beautiful.
