When You’re Not Looking

I was recently on my first trip out of town since the pandemic changed the landscape. It was delightful to be outside the four walls that have defined life for the past sixteen months. We hopped into the car and headed to Santa Fe.

I had people to see and places to revisit. Restaurants to discover and others to reintroduce myself. My husband was along as well as good friend. My husband is almost 92 and no longer steady on his feet. He walks holding onto my arm most of the time. We have not been out much in the past two years and I noticed something wonderful has returned to our world – politeness and courtesy. Our national dialogue might tell us otherwise, but I have never had that many doors held open or offers to help. I was impressed with the kindness the world shared for the six days we were gone.

On the last day we were in Santa Fe my friend and I went out to breakfast, allowing my husband an opportunity to sleep in which he so enjoys. Sated with croissants and coffee we headed to the Plaza to hit some of the shops we had not had a chance to see the first day.  I was hoping to find my favorite art gallery still there, but it was no more.

I looked up and across the street just as a woman came out of her shop rolling a rack of clothes.   I was about to look ahead to other venues when she toppled over as the rack hit a snag and slammed to the ground. Quickly looking both ways I hurried across the street to help. As I arrived, she was dusting off her hands and muttering.

“First I fall off my bike and now this.”

My friend and I reached down to pick up clothes and she said to the air, “Falling twice in one day. Why?!!”

“Well, at least you didn’t break anything, which is a good thing.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

As we busied ourselves, three other passersby had stopped and all five of us set about picking up clothes, changing directions of the hangers and reloading the rolling rack. She stood there for a moment, did the obligatory protestations and then thanked us all.

The rack in place, she turned and headed into the store.  We looked in the window as we passed and decided to go in. It was filled with wonderfully artistic linen/cotton clothes and they were having a sale. When we commented on how small the XL looked on the sales rack, she chimed in, “Well XL in Nepal is a lot smaller than it is here.”

This precipitated a conversation about the clothing’s origin. Dragonfly was the brand and the owners of the shop were from Nepal, designed the clothes and had them made by relatives back home. They were great fabrics, fun and unusual designs and just our style. The only drawback was neither of us was petite. My friend found a great jacket in Nepalese XXL on the sale rack. It was constructed of a variety of fabrics, one of which matched a pair of fabulous palazzo pants across the room.  We had no other agenda, so why not try them on? Out she came in pants that were long enough for her 5’11” frame and were simply delightful. It was a must have.

As she headed back into the dressing room, I noticed a wonderfully colorful carpet hanging on the wall of the dressing area.  It was maroon and yellow and white and breathtaking.  I made a comment and was informed there were more upfront.

My eye was drawn to a blue and green 3X5 carpet. I unrolled it and fell in love. I looked for a price but could find none when our new friend directed me to a list on the back of the cabinet by the rugs. They were on sale.  I LOVE a sale. As I unrolled a couple of other rugs to consider, she told us that she had just had a series of awful events. The day before someone stole her bicycle tires. She got new ones only to fall off that morning and bruise her elbow. Then she rolled out the rack and toppled over again. Her frustration was evident, and it was tinged with despair.

“But you didn’t break any bones and five strangers showed up to help you. And we would not have even come in this store if we hadn’t seen you fall.”

As I continued to eye the rug, my friend put the outfit on the counter. The salesperson looked at me and said, “I can give you another $100 off the rug if you want it. You look like you are on the fence.”

I screamed, “Sold!” and began to roll it back up.

“Oh, thank you,” she exclaimed. “The two of you have just made my daily quota and I will get my bonus today.”

“So see, the fall was a good thing. You have now had three upsetting events followed by two good ones. People show up for you.”

“What?”

“It is my new favorite phrase – People show up for me. I say it every day and might repeat it when I am in a dilemma of some sort. Keep it simple. People show up for me.”

My friend and I left not too long after. Okay, it was a few minutes because I had to ask about the Nepal connection and oooh and aahhh over the designs, but as we walked back to the car, I reflected on the serendipitous wonders of our world and the opportunities that abound that we often do not stop to appreciate and ponder.

It is good to be back out in the world.