The tears.

The tears.

It is always shocking.

And heart breaking.

Hugely disappointing,

And it always rocks my little world.

 

She told me patrons were rude to him.

Initially, I was confused.

I couldn't understand.  

Or wouldn't understand.

Why would anyone be rude to him.

At work. 

He works here.  

He has worked here for years. 

 

Everyone knows his name.  

He is always friendly to customers.

He is happy and sociable.  

 

Customers complain he is too loud. 

They treat him disrespectfully.

 

My imagination immediately visualizes... the store manager escorting those tyrants politely and confidently to the nearest exit.  

The remaining customers cheering as the manager returns.  

He, sporting a huge smile, feels the love...

*sigh*

 

We bonded on our mutual compassion for him.

She spoke further in the emotion of the moment.  

 

She shared, 

A customer once told her, with his finger pointing at her aggressively, 

'Get back to Africa'.

My eyes instantly burned with hurt.  

 

She saw my empathy and smiled her strength back to me. 

Our conversation lost words.  

She spoke first,

Her positive attitude full strength.

She told me her daughters never experienced any such racism.  

She was reassuring me.  

Softening any bitterness that had arisen.

She was reassuring me.

 

Sometimes, real life breaks my heart.

These little cracks of empathy...

Are a part of my makeup.

They have created my ability to advocate.

They have instilled strength within me to speak up for others.

They have enabled me to be accepting.

They have given me the confidence to accept all differences and similarities.

They have allowed my life to be touched by so many people.  

 

Ironically, my heartbreak is a gift.  

 

 

 

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