No, really.
I wish I’d heard this song during my post-divorce cleaning business days, when I felt very much like a washed-up Cinderella.
Fact: Each one of us has immeasurable worth.
I took my children to the Mall one weekend. We didn’t go there to spend anymore; we just needed an outing. We walked along storefronts, window shopping. I remembered the trinkets I’d once bought from the elegant stores, and the kitchen gadgets I had planned to buy at one time from the gourmet cooking store, when I was living a different life.
After perusing the entire mall, we stopped for a snack at the food court. As we sat with our victuals, I became keenly aware, possibly for the first time in my life, of the cleaning crew. They were everywhere, amongst the people dining at the tables. They wore colors that blended in; blacks and grays, with sensible shoes. The women wore their hair in ponytails, or cut short to keep out of the way. A half dozen or so of these helpers were clearing trays that had been carelessly left behind, and wiping off tables. One was on her knees, cleaning up a spill that no one had bothered to deal with. I knew her expression all too well. For a second, she looked up and our eyes met. I gave her a warm smile. She quickly looked away. She didn’t know me in my fancy wardrobe, with my silver hoop earrings and my Italian boots from my one of my long-gone trips to Europe. She didn’t recognize me at all, though…that I was a cleaner, too. That I was her sister.
*Please visit me on Twitter and Facebook.
No comments:
Post a Comment