Several of Sarah’s work friends arrived at V.F.W. hall the same time we did, all dressed in their holiday glitz and glitter (Sarah opted for a Christmas tee-shirt). One of her friends, Ann, held the door and excitedly welcomed us in. I told her how pretty she looked, and her comment to me, quite matter-of-factly, was, “Yes, I do look pretty tonight.” And off she walked to join her friend. I smiled, but with a certain sadness, but the sadness was not for Ann. Her self-esteem did not need a makeover. My sadness was for those of us who fail to see our own beauty and for those who may never see it in Ann.
A down-the-bayou band, cafeteria tables and folding chairs, a meal served without fanfare or artistic presentation, a choice of three canned sodas, and they were delighted. So much joy with so few trappings. They slowed danced to foot-tapping music, boogied to the huggy songs, and twirled solo. They were having fun.
And we’re the “normal” ones? How frightening is that?
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