I don’t know her. We have never met. Never even exchanged a spoken word. I met her only through a picture.
It is said that strangers often see a different person than we see when we look at ourselves. I suspect this is because we know ourselves so well, that we tend to be more judgmental, while the stranger tends to focus on the things they like. Perhaps that is what I have done. This is what I saw.
I saw a face that said welcome. The hint of a smile, teasing the mouth at the corners, as if waiting for an excuse to laugh. A sense of humor that must be held in check as it is always trying to escape.
I saw eyes that dance to their own tune. They reveal a lot of the little girl within. Inquisitive, but mischievous, thinly concealing a sometimes rebellious spirit. Impatient with the status quo.
I saw silver hair, softly framing the face. It is not fussy, but instead casual, sporting just a hint of curl. Attractive yet functional. Suggesting a person that has more important things to do then spend a lot of time in a salon.
I saw a face enhanced by soft features, attesting to seasons spent. They do not suggest hardship, although it is possible that she has walked in those shoes, but chose not to let it define who she was going to be.
I saw a quiet strength. She is comfortable with herself. She is who she is because it is who she wants to be.
I saw a face that typified for me what a grandmother should look like.
I saw a face that said I’m willing to be your friend.
I saw a face that said hello without ever speaking a word.