Dear Second Floor Ladies Lounge at Nordstrom,
Then one day, I found myself out and about with a hungry baby, and wouldn’t you know it, you were right upstairs. Up we went to find you, settled in to a corner of your sofa and got to business. As expected, we had you all to ourselves. For about three minutes, when in walked a blonde fashionista, clad head to ankle-booted toe in black. She plopped into an armchair and got to business on her iPhone, texting and scrolling her way through the social sphere.
And then it was just the three of us. For about five minutes, when in walked a Middle Eastern woman, clad in a loose flowered shirt and pale pink headscarf. She looked around your cozy confines, settled on the empty corner next to Ms. Black, and got to business doing her afternoon prayers, prostrating herself again and again on all of three square feet of your floor space.
And then it was just the four of us. For about one minute, when in walked Beth in her summer sundress, who I’d left amongst the fancy clothing racks outside. She plopped into your remaining armchair and silently took stock of us all. And then it was the five of us, sharing you.
And I thought, what an interesting intersection of person and place. There’s Beth, waiting on me. Me, waiting on my baby. Ms. Black, waiting on her friends. Ms. Scarf, waiting on God. And you, bringing us all together. Four different women, each as unique and distinct from one another as the portraits on your wall, syncing together for just a few heartbeats before scattering back to our own corners of life. Forming our own portrait, of the many faces, and roles, and places we fill as women. Friend, mother, muse, disciple. Teacher, student, socialite, wife.
It was a nice reminder. One you don’t often get. Especially at the mall. On a Wednesday. And here I thought you were lonely.
See you soon,
For more musings by Lex, visit “fieldnotes on motherhood” HERE