Detours & Knowledge

  

Last night

The moment we walked into this Pakistani / Indian restaurant, our skepticism grew. The vibe was somewhere between a hole in the wall joint and a moms & pops store. The pink and red paint started to fade on the wall. The floor could use a scrubbing session. On the brink of leaving, we were lured back in with the sight of a family, a beautiful family at that. If they're eating here, then there must be an ounce of goodness left somewhere hidden within the uncertainty of our doubts. We ordered. "It'll take 10-15mins.", said the cashier who also happened to be the chef. Upon the wait, a light skinned thick Bahamian woman walked towards us and offered a basket of what seemed to be the Pakistani/Indian version of tortilla chips.

Peppery and spicy.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, my pops began to small talk with her. She had blue eyes, which caught me off guard. Very alluring I must say. She spoke perfect English with a slight hint of her Caribbean ancestry. She opens up. Within the next few minutes, I learned that she is thirty-four years old with a fifteen year old son who aspires to be a doctor. Apparently, she comes from a very athletic family, as she bragged on and on about her supposed family members currently in the NFL, NBA, & MLB.  Just when I was about to mute her from my listening process, she goes, "Oh and I love to write poetry." And just like that, my attention was grabbed.  I asked if she does spoken word.

She said yes.

I said word.  

I shot my head up in passive excitement & asked her to recite something. The shyness of her tone was quickly overrun by a confidence that blossomed the deeper she terrained through her poem.

It was about love.

It was about growing old.

It was about sacrifice.

Maybe it was those damn blue angelic eyes that entrapped me in a daze. Or it could’ve been the content of her art. Or the genuine vibe I felt after she finished, kind of like a good after taste.  I felt bewitched. Locked in. Asked her how long she had been writing, she replied, “2 years.”  It was then that I learned 2 years ago she was involved in an automobile accident that left her disabled. She couldn't finish college because she was no longer able to concentrate on school work due to her altered neuronal and muscular function capabilities.  Eventually, I leaned in a little closer and almost to the edge of my seat. She states, “When I was in the hospital, I asked the nurses everyday for a pen and piece of paper to write on. That's all I ever did there. I wrote poetry. Now, I can't stop writing because since my mind is messed up, I write from the heart and never encountered writers block. If you think too much, you'll get stuck. Just do."  I was immediately taken back by that. Overcome by a revelation of sorts from such a simple statement.  She continued a little more with her story before the food finally came out. As we were paying, she bid us a quick farewell and walked back into the kitchen. I learned that she is a waitress at the restaurant. A waitress not by choice, but by circumstance. We leave and realize that we never asked for her name.

It doesn't matter and it never will. 

I write this because I was so inspired by her story even with the short duration of our encounter.  Within ten minutes, her story spoke eons. It was a story of a woman who discovers a gift amidst of the traumatic nature of an accident, a mother of an aspiring teenager, a warrior who is still battling her way up to happiness, and an artist who paints a better picture for herself through heart and not the mind.  My world had expanded exponentially.

More enlightened.

More humbled.  

See ten minutes prior, we were starving, on the road and our hunger pains grew stronger at the sight of the restaurant. Hesitant to deviate from the original plan of going to Doris Market to buy food, we felt the urge to try something new. Ten minutes later, we were satisfied. If we didn't take this detour, we'd remain hungry. Not for the beef kabobs and warm naan, but for the mental nourishment we just received. I pray for this waitress and may she continue to bless the world with her poetry.  After all, we did find more than an ounce of goodness.  The food was good too.

Take a detour, listen to a new song.

You might learn something from the start.

When life trifles with your mind, you know to speak from the heart.

And if you speak from the heart, you can never go wrong...

-Jeff