Constant comparison between this and that, one and the other, here and there, this size and that size, define all conclusions about every thought.
That friday night we went to the same restaurant we enjoy going almost every weekend. The rooms were full, the waitresses busy, and sooner than later we had our appetizer in front of us giving us a sensation of feeling mildly spoiled. To have food served to us is a commodity. Or simply to have food is a privilege, period. Plus drinks, main dish, and smiles from the staff. This is certainly not to be taken for granted.
Outside the big windows we could see the street and the locals enjoying the wonderful weather while the trees secretly were turning yellow a little bit at a time. The rush of the week had been replaced by the slow motion of walks, smokers and loud laughs coming from the sidewalks.
Then her skinny figure approached the outdoor tables and their occupants. Her tight jeans revealed absence of muscles. Her balance was similar of a tight rope circus figure. Shirt tucked in and a plastic belt around her waist. Some earings, hair in a pony-tail, and her final picture was signed and sealed with a smashing red lipstick.
From inside the restaurant I watch her asking the patrons for money. Nobody gave any. She finished her route down the block and returned to start asking again, this time approaching new people.
I checked my purse, and even though we were still busy eating dinner, I already imagined donating the $3 dollars I had. After concluding my plan, I started imagining her life and where she lived, and the IQ that she might have. I know it takes a certain amount of planning to look your best and even though she had planned her looks, she still could not have predicted the outcome of her efforts.
I compared my life to hers. Her size to the other people’s size sitting outdoors. Her movement and the wind. Her hunger and ours. I compared everything she was and one thing I found that we matched: the ambition to succeed. By watching her I found myself and when we walked outside she looked at me and I gave her my change and said “Here you go!”.
It was simply a reward for her efforts.