Monday, February 3, 2014

The Soul Of An Independent Woman

My art instructor is younger than me. (I am careful to be respectful of her because I know how uncomfortable it can be to have another instructor in the classroom.) I watch her teach her trade effortlessly. Her long curly hair is always pulled back. She likes to wear stylish boots and zip-up hoodies. She is non-pretentious (which surprised me a bit since she is an art instructor.) When she takes role, she never says my name out loud because she KNOWS if I am there. When I ask her questions, she answers me sincerely and earnestly. I do not think she is married. I do not think she has children. She drives a long way to teach this one class. Is it worth it? Adjunct pay is not impressive. When I look at her, I see a young woman fending for herself. I see a young person finding her way in the world. I see her walking a line that she will someday, over time, fall off of or get pushed from. I do not know much else about her, except when I talk to her I can see right through her. She has the soul of an innocent child. I do not detect damage or abuse. I do not see tattoos or scars on her body. I see youth and hope, and the will to follow her life's passion as long as society will let her. I also see frailty, and how easy it would be to hurt her. She is not perfect. But when she talks to you, she looks directly into your eyes the way a young deer would if you offered it food. There's something a little bit wild there, a little bit untrusting. Is there anything as pure as the soul of an independent woman? 

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