Black Women And Joy

I walked into the 7/11 this afternoon for a roll and coffee, and came upon something I rarely see, and don't know if I have ever really had. Three Black women were behind the counter (as opposed to the usual convicts and morons) and they were huddled together, like children conspiring to rule the world and loving each other. Joyously oblivious that their happiness seems so odd, not only nowadays, but to me, always.

Odd, but beautiful. Something I can see and admire, and never possess. It is only inside their own African-American, even colored lady world, that is closed to all but those in the same skin. I have no idea what was up, but how I envy their so easy happiness. Their black delight comes to them, like darkness comes to me.

Clack, clack, is what it sounded like. But the laughter...The true sound of helpless, unrestricted love; for oneself, each other, and the life they live, was a weird noise, but unambiguously elegant . Even as they trudge through the clerkiness of 7/11's backwardness, they find the time for "girlfriend" love, even there.

I wish I could do that with my white skin.

Joe