BUS STORY # 427 (Portrait # 28: Good Lookin’)

Photo by Busboy

She’s in her 40s, probably the near side of 45. Plain white sleeveless blouse, denim clamdiggers, flip-flops. Brown hair, and long for her age -- past her shoulders. It looks good.

She recognized the driver when she boarded, and she’s standing in the front and having a conversation. About barbecue.

It’s an animated discussion, and there is friendly disagreement.

The animation comes from the tone of her voice. And, I realize, from the way her hair moves with her vocal cadence.

And then I realize it’s just not her hair that looks good. She looks good.

That’s when I really start looking.

And at first, I can’t figure it out.

It’s not her clothes. They couldn’t be more nondescript.

She’s trim, but everywhere I look -- the backside of her clamdiggers, her upper arms, her ankles, -- there is undisguised middle-age thickness.

Her elbows look roughened. And I can see wrinkles on the side of her face.

And, yes, she still looks good...

(I can also see the face of the driver in his rearview mirror. He’s obviously enjoying the conversation and the company, but I never see him take his eyes off the road.)

After a while, she moves to the bench seat behind the driver. I’m near the front on the passenger side of the bus, and have a good view of her face now. It’s a middle-aged woman’s face, pleasant enough, and you can see the attractive girl that used to be where the woman is now. She isn’t wearing any makeup that I can see.

And then she smiles, to herself.

That’s when I figure it out. There’s an unguarded joy in that smile you just don’t see everyday. It’s the smile of someone who is comfortable with who she is, and who is enjoying herself in the ordinary everyday.

She looks terrific.