I wandered into the ladies room at the Art Institute of Chicago
Straight from the Thorne Miniature Room,
which has always been one of my favorite
Exhibits
Approaching the wall of sinks and mirrors,
I notice the cleaning lady to my left
going about her
Business.
She looks up
I nod hello
She nods hello back and smiles shyly
I watch her discretely
She tends to her work with the attention to detail of the most skilled surgeon
Wiping the filth from the sinks
Emptying the trash bins and carrying off the threat of flus and bugs and the
Icky things that make most of us cringe.
I wonder how she got to work today.
Did she have to take a bus with multiple exchanges
Did she have to rush to feed her kids breakfast
Before
racing
to the train?
Will she have to stop and pick up groceries or medicine on the
way home?
Tired, beat, walking three blocks out of her way to the store
And
Three blocks back.
Where does she find her sanity check?
Somewhere in the middle,
I guess.
To my right are a couple twenty-somethings discussing the
virtues
of
Hair condition.
Apparently there is a fine line between shampooing
Too often
and
Not often enough.
Too much and your hair
Goes limp
Too little and it's a nightmare to brush
Through.
Where's the balance?
Somewhere in the middle,
I suppose.
I turn back to the mirror in front of me
This window to the soul
With its newly cleaned glass
Not a speck of lint left after its timely wipe down
I look down into the sink below me
At the water twirling around
as it rolls
expectantly
Into the Drain.
And I wonder
What will be the toughest decision I make today?
Somewhere in the middle
I hope.
