Brave

A woman possessed of an unsettling gaze and ungentle manner. Her MO best described as bull-in-china-shop. The clatter of breaking cutlery does not perturb her. She continues placidly (if somewhat lonesomely) onto the next mishap of manners. People struggle to relax when she is near. It does not help that an air of intense displeasure seems to lift off her at all times. She is direct and sans diplomacy. It is not uncommon for tears and resentment to explode in her wake. If she notices, she pretends not to. She sees more than most people. And most people who see her prickliness, do not perceive her grief.

She is grieving.

Though she appears impenetrable as a fortress, the broken heart of a young girl lies hidden in this grown woman. Her heavyset face, her strong-willed ways do not betray her sorrow. Few suspect it. Fewer seek to know who she is. It feels easier not to. And yet. And yet.

Those who dare against their better judgment to brave the lion in its den find no lion there at all. Instead they discover, if not quite a lamb–a giraffe. Cramped and uncomfortable. With trembling, awkward limbs and fathomless, dark-rimmed eyes. An unexpected, and unexpectedly beautiful creature.

Trying like the rest of us, to make sense of this inscrutable world.