i thought, "seriously?"
"yes, i'm serious."
so i did.
what unfolded was one of my most favorite days i have ever had in The Hole that completely revolved around the fact that i had brought nail polish. one by one, women gathered, curious as to what we were doing. one by one, women sat down picking through, deciding what color they should use. i looked around at four generations of women; painting each other's nails, laughing, chatting like hens and chicks and i couldn't help but feel that quiet pass of peace that only happens every so often. that moment when all is right in the world and not a thing could taint it. when god, this earth, his people and life collide in just the right way that you have a taste of what it must have been like in the garden of eden before darkness entered the world. and as quickly as it comes and as short as it stays it makes you long for the next moment like that to come again.
we talked about coffee, we drank coffee and made even more coffee. we talked about painting the step we were sitting on because carmen can't look at it without remembering that horrible night. we talked about the community and what it's going to take to change a place like that. and we talked about babies and breastfeeding and turning ninety-five.
i felt for the very first time in six years that i wasn't just a visitor in The Hole. that i was adopted, somehow, into this place that invited me to hear the deep hurts and joyful triumphs of everyday living. somehow, i have been given the privilege to enter into this sacred barrio and feel like i was sitting on my own front step.
all because i brought some nail polish.
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