You Have A Lovely face

              A few hours later from the Blind bitch post,  I’m on the train, on my way home.

              I’ve just walked onto the train, and have deliberately bumped some one with my can to see if she’ll offer my seat. I would likely have declined, but it’s always interesting to see if people will offer or just ignore me.

              “You want to sit?” The voice sounded old, had an accent, and was coming from behind me.

              I turned around.

              “Me?”

              “Yes. There’s a seat here.”

              I walked forward.

“Right at the corner.”

              “Here?”

              “Yes.”

              Thank you.”

              I settled in. And began to fold my cane.

              The woman seated beside me began talking to the woman in front of us. She was talking about how advanced technology is now. The canes can fold. And something about iPods and iPhones in her day.

              “Are you with her?” She asked another woman standing in front of, and a little to the side of me.

              “No.”

              “Oh. She needs someone with her. An aid.”

              I think this was the second time I’ve heard someone say that about me. Why? I’m not disturbing you in my blindness.

              “You can see?”

              It’s a stop or two later and I assumed that the lady beside me is now talking to me.

              “Yeah.”

              “You can see enough to get home?”

              “Yes. But it doesn’t matter. Even if I couldn’t see at all, I would be fine.” The aid comment didn’t endear her to me.

              “But you can see a little?” I say yeah again. “You can see out of both eyes?”

              “Only a little out of one.”

              “Only a little out of one? Oh. I’ll pray for you, okay? You know God works miracles.”

              “Why? God does everything for a reason. I’m sure he has his reasons for making me this way.”

              “I know but we can still pray. You know He answers prayers and works miracles. He may not answer today, tomorrow, next week, next month, or even next year, but he does. So we cann still pray.”

              “Yes.”

              “That’s what I spend most of my time doing, praying.”

              I nodded and mumbled something.

              She then told me that this was the second time she was seeing me. I wondered, silently, of course, why I should care. But I continued mumbling things until she fell silent and I turned my music up a little higher.

***

              “This is Utica, okay?”

              “Okay, thank you.”

              “And I’ll pray for you.”

              “Thanks.”

              “No problem. You’re a beautiful girl.”

              “Thank you.”

              “Yeah, you have a lovely face.”

              “Thank you.” Jesus I think. How many times am I going to thank her? “Have a nice day.”

              “Yes, you too. Have a lovely evening.”

              And she’s gone.

              … What?

              To quote my peers, “I literally can’t even.”

PS. I’m really excited that I did that link thing. You know, inserting the link to the other post?

Blind Bitch

              So, yesterday I went to one of two or three orientations for my college. While I didn’t enjoy the ice-breakers, I loved when, while we were in line to get our ID’S, this girl touched my arm before asking me about something from the orientation. I loved that she realized that was all she had to do.

Nice experience, right?

But it wasn’t necessarily interesting enough for me to make a point of blogging. But since I’m writing down the other experience, I thought I might as well start with something pleasant.

              Fast forward an hour or so and I’m walking from the F train to my job. I had a guy assist me in finding the stairs (I was heading for a wall) and then going in the right direction once I was above ground (I don’t take the downtown train very often).

              Okay, I’ve exited the station and am now walking along the sidewalk, an earpiece in my ear and my cane sweeping back and forth in front of my body.

              “You! You need help?” A booming male voice.

              Is he talking to me? I think, but then immediately dismiss it until my shoulder is touched, forcefully.

              “You need help?”

              I shake my head.

              “Where are you going?”

              “Don’t worry about it,” I say, pleasantly but dismissively. “I’m fine.”

              “Where are you going? I’m trying to help you.” Keep in mind that this man is shouting this entire time.

              “I’m not comfortable giving you that information. But I’m fine, thank you.”

              I start walking away and the guy starts or resumes a phone conversation. I don’t hear all of what he says, but I did catch “blind bitch.”

              Interestingly enough, that was not the first time that I was called that.

Some people are just angry (even if they’re trying to be helpful). And others need to work on their approach. Why would I accept help from someone who is shouting at me.

              Maybe that was his natural tone of voice. But I still knew where I was going and calling me a bitch was certainly uncalled for.