Sometimes There's Ugliness
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This morning I dashed into 7-11 to get some breakfast and lunch money for L. Ahead of me was a petite young woman in incredibly tight jeans. She was walking quickly, in a stilted, jerky kind of way. I wondered what her disability was, decided it was probably arthritis, and pondered the hardship of arthritis for such a young woman.

Although she appeared to be in a great hurry, she took the time to hold the door open for me. She ducked her head as I thanked her. I thought, "That girl needs more confidence". And went to get my breakfast -which took about 40 seconds.

At the register, the woman was ahead of me again. She was trying to fish money out of her front pocket, using her finger as a hook to wiggle the change and bills out. Her sole purchase was a $1.50 can of beer.

I noticed she had dropped a nickle so I bent to pick it up for her. As I was stooped, I saw a quarter and some pennies too. So I picked it all up and set it on the counter for her. She thanked me, and I saw her face for the first time. She looked at least as old as me; and she had a perfectly rectangular bruise blossoming over the bridge of her nose.

The little things I'd observed suddenly became huge. The discolorations on her arms weren't hives or bad skin, they were layers of bruises. Her fingers were swollen. There were old marks on her throat and collarbone.

I suddenly wanted to ask her if the beer was for her, or for the person who had mashed her face? And I realized that I wasn't willing to take her into my home and shelter her - because I didn't want the drama of driving her beater off my property.

And I felt like crap.

I have no idea why I wanted to help and protect a total stranger. Maybe because, at that moment, she would have let me? I don't know.

And I had a moment of clarity. Second Life is attractive to so many people because bruises don't show.