Why, Indeed

Recently, a woman came into the shop where I work. It’s a small place and we don’t typically have many walk-in customers. She was dressed in a tight knit black skirt with subtle flower patterns, slit up the side; a black lace bra with a long sleeve black gauze shirt. It was a hot day, and she was looking for a different shirt to wear. She had been at a friend’s house, she informed me, had to leave, and the only clothes she had were what she had on. I don’t really have any shirts here that aren’t very “costumey”, and she didn’t have a whole lot of money.

She ended up purchasing, with her last five dollars, a long black silk scarf. She went into the bathroom and after having spent quite a bit of time there, she emerged having fashioned the scarf into a shirt. She came to my office door, outside of which is a full-length mirror, and decided she didn’t quite like what she saw. She was having a tough time getting it to stay in place, so I gave her a handful of safety pins. Back into the bathroom she headed.

On the way, I asked her if she had someplace to go, someplace she was safe. She stopped in her tracks, turned to me, and said, “I…there….why would you ask me that?” I responded that she seemed, well, stressed, and thought she may need some help. She told me that she was always stressed, that she was fine.

I didn’t press. I sometimes wish I had.

She re-emerged from the bathroom, scarf-shirt pinned in place. She still didn’t like it, and back to my office door she went. After futzing for a time, she was finally somewhat satisfied, thanked me, and left…

Only to return fine minutes later. This time she asked for and received a needle and thread. She went over to a corner of the shop, removed the scarf-shirt, and started to try to sew it into something more permanent. By this time, she had been in the store for about three hours, and it was almost time for me to leave. For several reasons, I was not about to leave here there, sewing in the corner wearing only her bra and skirt. I then remembered a “Thing One” costume (think Dr. Seuss) that consisted of a t-shirt and a large blue wig. I asked her is she would like one of those.

“How much is it?”

“This one is free.” (I did pay for it it later.)

“I’ll take it!”

She donned the shirt, thanked me, took a business card, and left.

When I told my son this story, do you know what he said? “Why didn’t you do that in the first place, Mom?”

Why, indeed.

Maybe we all could be a little quicker at seeing past ourselves to discover what help is needed, no matter how small it may seem to us to be.