leslie

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on my first day of class god sent leslie to me. i had just finished eating my pad thai, fried rice, and shrimp roll and was walking to chat with my ethnic studies classmate whom i haven't seen all summer when i saw her across the room. she was an older white woman with unruly gray hair sitting conspicuously by the window, the single unmoving figure in the midst of just under a hundred asian students (mostly freshmen) who were conversing with thai teas in hand while waiting for the APSA board to call out raffle numbers.

distracted, i asked my friend, "does she come often?"
"yeah." my friend nodded.

"does anyone talk to her?"
"no but it's not like we can kick her out."

i didn't respond to that but told him that i'm going to go meet her. when i knelt next to her and asked if i could sit with her, she gave me a huge beaming smile and quickly moved aside her empty plate that seemed to signal to people that the space next to her was unopen. i sometimes do that to discourage strangers from sitting next to me, especially in the morning at class when i'm not awake yet. her body language was closed - she was hugging her knees and her face was empty and guarded, but the moment i asked her how her day was she brightened up and shared at a breakneck speed about how she spends her time, about her awe of the opportunities presented to us on campus, about her love of learning. i remembered that she had bright blue eyes just like melissa's. i noted that she didn't smell homeless. and when she told me about rape and murder and lies and attempted murders, her tone was distanced and impassive, as if it wasn't her story. she could've been telling me about someone else's nightmare from last night for all i knew. i was distinctly aware of the curious eyes of the students in the foreground. let them stare, i thought. the holy spirit is here, do you feel him?

it was as if God was welcoming me back to san diego and telling me that he has people for me to love on. here am i, use me.

sidenotes;

i am itchy like a monkey