Just a Smile

Here I sit in my quiet house with a lovely wine at the end of an busy evening of cleaning.  Throughout the evening as I circled my home approximately fifteen times picking up and dropping off things in their rightful places, a twenty-three year old memory, of a once-encountered, seventy year old man chased my thoughts through the house.

It was at my first job ever.   I worked at "Caramel Corn", a candy/ice cream shop in the mall.  It was a quiet mall and it was my first job ever.  I sat on my stool behind my counter of candy, swimming in the wafty, freshly-popped popcorn smell, as the soft-serve icecream machines turned with a loud hum behind me.  I was part bored, part terrified, part hypoglycemic sitting behind the counter of a buffet of treats I would not indulge myself in for fear of shaming my new position.   I could use this all as an excuse for what unfolded, but the truth is, I was simply a serious, introverted kid.  "Really? You?"  ha ha...yes.

So, one fine evening, as I counted the minutes till I closed the doors to the shop and began my dismemberment and cleaning of the soft-serve ice-cream machines, a man in his seventies approached and purchased something that I do not recollect.  He came and went.

Then came back again.

At that moment, I was unaware he had been watching me for a while.  Uncomfortably, I addressed him, nervous that he wanted to return something - I hadn't learned refunds at that point.  Or perhaps he was one of the malls' notorious eclectics.

He approached me gently. "Smile" he said.

I looked at him with confusion.  He held my eyes with his look.  ...I lifted my eyebrows and clenched my teeth together with lips parted while wondering if he was a little 'off'.

His eyes settled in on me and he stated, "You should smile".

At that age, I passed it off defensively.   "Whatever." my early adult mind muttered, "I am not the type who walks around bubbly and sweet.  I am an introvert.  If, and when I do smile, it is because I am truly happy because of something.  I am a deliberate smiler.  That was my justification.

Now, two and a half decades have passed and I have a four-year-old in her second year of preschool.  I am writing this entry to scratch a pet-peeve.

My pet-peeve is this:  bubbles.  People are stuck in their own bubbles.  The West Coast is notorious for what comes across as snobbery.   Internationally, the women of the West Coast of Canada are known for this.  I am one of those.  But now, I get it.

I take my daughter to activities.  It is not just she who is entering a new social circle.  I, myself, enter new circles and events alongside her.  How myself and others come to these situations and react intrigues me.  "Am I nervous?" - most often times, a little.  "Am I flustered?" - highly likely, as I seem to come to events with the force of a tornado, and a dusting of farm hay on me.  "Am I oblivious?"  -I try my best not to be.  Some days take more than others.  But as a mother, who is a role-model to her child for behaviours in social situations, I tend to watch myself more than I did before Little M.

I was such a shy, introverted kid.  It was painful for me to look at people. Some people (i.e. hubby) express themselves more, they beam.  I retreated inward to my bubble.  It was when I became a mom, I innately opened as a person.  The primal instinct to connect was just deeper, not just with my family and friends, but with my community and to build a community.  I am an example to Little M.  I do my best to prepare her for these new social situations.  No matter how much I talk to her, or talk about scenarios, I know that the way I handle situations, the energy I take in to these situations with her, are her most significant point of learning.  She will watch me to see how I engage.

So now I have that seventy year old man chasing me around the house tonight.  "Smile...", he says.

Our society today is so fragmented.  We are in our own little bubbles, just trying to survive the myriad of activities, tasks etc.  Those bubbles fragment our sense and hope of community.  Do we not need community?  No, we don't all need community.  But as an adult now, I do believe that community that is positive, supportive and equal are one of the world's/family's/person's/child's' greatest strengths.  I hope to build that because it is important.  

So if we do see community as beneficial, how do we create it?  The first step is openness.  "Smile".  It takes a smile, a "hello" to just open a door and say "I'm here".  It is a gesture that welcomes potential for positive.  Sometimes it even says, "I need help", "I'm really messing up here, but I'm doing my best".  It just says you are there, and open to the possibility to connect.  I see now, the power of a genuine smile, and the challenges of remaining in ones bubble.

Some days suck.  Some days I feel like crap and have very little to give out.  Some days, I falter and get upset with Little M in the car and I feel like a shit and question myself as a mother.  But I'll tell ya, when I see a genuine smile from someone else for me, it shifts me.  In the smallest way, it says, "just hang in there".   I can smile back as a "Thank you".  Maybe Little M was seeing how I open social circles and seeing me smile will encourage her to do the same - when it is tough, when she is a little scared, if she just has the courage to smile, perhaps the world will respond with bringing her back a friend, another smile, a gust of further courage.

I used to say I was not one of those smiley people.  If you saw me smiling, I was smiling very deliberately.  I am still completely that way - I am smiling deliberately because I am in a place that is more open, I am wanting to give these situations the best shot possible, because who we surround ourselves with has a tremendous affect on our lives and theirs.

Carrying light, whether it is inspired by appreciation, empathy, knowing the truth of the hard things, is deliberate and it is often times, translated in just a smile.  It's all it takes to burst the bubble.

One man, over twenty years ago comes to mind.  He brought a light to me that has remained.  One smile, one connection can mean that much.

"Smile".

True enough...