I joked to my husband that she might be on drugs, but was not really kidding. We agreed that there was something "off" about her. I observed her while she struggled to tend to a table with a large party of people, all asking different things of her. She walked swiftly back to the kitchen, to retrieve a forgotten item, and then returned to our table to bring our drinks, somewhat sloppily. I felt uneasy.
I breathed deeply and thought about my options. We could leave, as it seemed the evening was off to a bad start. Or we could stay and look for good things to see. I asked my partner to play a game with me. "Let's try to find something to appreciate about her," I said. So we did.
"She has good posture!" "She is trying really hard." "She gave a genuine response when I asked her opinion about a dish." We sat back in our chairs, each of us reaching for more good things to notice about our waitress, and the establishment. She returned with our appetizer and I caught her eyes. They were clear, to my surprise. We ate our small plate, enjoying the food and each other's company.
When the waitress brought our main course, I expressed my delight about how good it looked. She kept apologizing for her awkwardness. "No worries!" I said. "It's OK, this is great!" my husband offered. She walked away and we continued to find the good while we ate. His steak with blue cheese sauce was incredible. My chicken fettuccine was tasty and not too heavy. The conversation was light, easy and loving. A perfect date.
Our waitress moved about, tending to her tasks. Midway through our meal she came over and began sharing with us. She had a young daughter and was working hard to provide for her. She told us how, two years ago, she was addicted to heroin. She was still climbing out of the hellhole she had been living in. "Look at you now!" I exclaimed. "Your eyes are so bright." "You're doing awesome," my husband said. She left again to go back to the kitchen.
At the end of our meal, she came back to visit. "I love it when couples like you come in. I've been enjoying listening to your conversation. This is what I want," she said, waving her hand between the two of us. "A love like this. …" She had shared some of her story, so we shared some of ours.
"What you see now is not how it's always been. We were not always like this." We, also, had a difficult past. Not the same, exactly, but ours was not always a life of pleasure or prosperity. There were bouts of pain and poverty in our individual and shared histories. We had each experienced the shame of being looked down on by people on high. Though we didn't use those words, exactly, our different experiences on the rough side of life gave us some insight, and compassion, for her plight. We talked a little bit about self-care and healing, and how our relationship as a couple is only good when we care for ourselves individually. The path to wellness takes work; it is not always easy. She said that her daughter's father is in recovery, and she knows that she has to look after her own well-being, and her baby, as a priority.
It was an evening to remember. I always enjoy our date nights. Sometimes they are light and happy, fun and playful. This one was warm, caring and humbling in all the right ways. It reminded me that we never serve another, or ourselves, by focusing on flaws. There is more than meets the eye in situations that, at first glance, appear ugly. One of my favorite quotes, by Gary Zukav, says: "Let us not run from the unattractiveness of a shattered soul, let us heal them." When we look for the best in another, we help draw it to the surface. A person who is a mess one minute can become poised and present under the gaze of someone looking for it.
We left the restaurant with happy bellies and a peaceful feeling. The waitress gave the gift of her time, effort and story, and allowed us the opportunity to experience the power of influence, and how easily we can help or hurt another just by how we see them. I am thankful I made the choice to find the best in her. It took very little effort, and it opened the door for a rich experience that benefited each of us — the waitress, my husband and me. We left a big tip.
Chantelle Pence is the author of "Homestead Girl: The View From Here." She divides her time between Anchorage and Chistochina.
The views expressed here are the writer's and are not necessarily endorsed by Alaska Dispatch News, which welcomes a broad range of viewpoints. To submit a piece for consideration, email commentary@alaskadispatch.com. Send submissions shorter than 200 words to letters@alaskadispatch.com.
^,^
Backs to the wall
Maneuvering room
there is none
The sun inexorably
nears the eastern horizon
And the town must
awaken
To back to school day
Backs to the wall
Condemned prisoners
of time
Parents and children
arise because they must
Lunch meats quiver in
refrigerated cellophane
Legions of new shoes
vibrate
At end-of-summer
bedsides
Loaves of bread know
they will soon
Be missing some
members
Alarm clocks get
turned off
Without ringing
They've been stared
at for an hour
Housecats pace
nervously
Mothers, dads and
children know
There is something
wonderfully rueful
This morning as
everyone is edged
Moment by moment to
an abyss
Time marches on is
the indictment
On this morning of
reckoning
Of idled playthings
Of wistfulness, of
swishing pendulums
Like scythes through
dewy hayfields
Like the migrants'
soft songs
As they toss melons
to the catcher in the wagon
Summer's offense
yields to autumn's defense
Gears mesh
incrementally
This clock cannot be
stopped
Moms and dads take
the annual picture
By the back yard gate
There is bravery
afoot
Warriors donning
dented armor
A sense of
inescapable duty met
And false joy
Mom exclaims
"Ah, the page is
turned! September first!"
Flying wax paper
Clouds of dust
[David Zep Dix 9-1-2000]
^,^
Old Poets
^,^
Mahalia
as Satchmo turns 70 at jazz festival
JUST A CLOSER WALK WITH THEE
