Touched by a flower

On a foggy morning that most definitely felt like fall, a tiny yellow bloom appeared on the tiny little pumpkin plant out in front of his house. There is no chance this bloom could amount to any more than a tiny little pumpkin by Halloween (and even that's doubtful), but that would be more than enough for the man who had wanted his own tiny litle dancer, now, wouldn't it?

Like the sudden pleasure of seeing the yellow flower today, the man rediscovered the almost magical power of human touch yesterday. Sometimes, there seems to be one special discovery built into each new day. The occasion late yesterday was routine; the experience sublime. At his optometrist's office, the technician fitted him with his new prescription sunglasses, which may qualify him for the Blues Brothers look should he ever wear a sports jacket and top hat.

In order to adjust the glasses, the technician has to place her hands above his ears, one on each side of his head, ever so gently. He sat in a chair across the narrow counter from her as she evaluated the fit. The first time she touched him, he felt cared for in a way that often eludes his day-to-day life. The second time he sat very still and gazed into her lovely brown Chinese eyes.

Each time she made a minor adjustment, he leaned forward so she could place the glasses on him again. Of course, he could have put them on himself, but he yearned for more of her soft touching. He noticed her grace and beauty. She was focusing on how the glasses fitted his face and he was focusing on the beauty of her eyes.

This carried on for perhaps all of five minutes. A half dozen times he felt his head ever so softly and delicately balanced between her smooth, feminine hands. He felt his breathing slow down and his body relax. From her hands he derived a kind of sensual human energy that can only be gained through touch.

Regrettably, this pretty woman eventually got his fit just to where she wanted it, and with a sigh, he thanked her and rose to go. He was the last customer of the day, however, and the technician seemed to like talking with him, so he lingered as she closed up shop.

It turned out that she, like he, is a single parent. Her son is two years old. They shared parenting tips, frustrations, and stories. They talked about discipline, which was vexing this young woman quite a bit. (Two-year-olds and teenagers have a way of doing that.) She said she won't hit him, but that when she was growing up, her parents had spanked her when she was "bad."

Her struggle to establish firm rules based on the "time-out" method of punishment that most enlightened parents try to adhere to nowadays, whilst eschewing the physical discipline that has been shown to be so harmful, was being undermined, she said, by her parents.

Every time she gave her son a "time out," he ran to the grandparents, who comforted him and symathized that his mom was being so "mean" to him.

As the man exited the shop and bundled up against the chill twilight wind sweeping new oceanic fog into the streets of San Francisco, he kept thinking about this young mother, trying to raise her son without a father (he'd apparently left the picture when the boy was born) in her parents house. Her entire situation seemed so loaded; he wished he could help her.

Because this is the person whose soft touch had just pulled him out of a bout of self-abuse...he'd had to leave work early, which he hates to do, and he couldn't do another errand or two that beckoned, just to navigate way across town to get his new prescription sunglasses. He felt pressed for time, harassed by real troubles, beset with incohate anxieties.

And the only reason he had bought the glasses in the first place was vanity! He knew his old ones would one day be retro, and therefore cool, but for now they were just plain awkward. The technician had chosen a much more stylish pair for him, and she confirmed that he looked "good" in them.



So, even though it was getting dark, he decided to drive home wearing his cool new sunglasses. Maybe someday, he thought, someone else would find him cool and attractive enough to hold his head softly in her hands, sitting across from him, and not just because it was her job.

It's at moments like these, he whispered to the cool man in his mirror, that you can't hide from how lonely you feel.