Faces

"The truest expression of a people is in its dance and music." 
                   Agnes de Mile
                                                                                                                                              
Everywhere I go, every place I've been, every place I'll ever be, I'll find faces. So many faces, and so many lives that I can never comprehend just how vast the intricate undertones of our humanity really are. 
The crossing guard I pass every morning on the way into school. She's not that old but not that young either. Why is she there? Doesn't she have her own kids to take to school? 
The cashier at the gas station that rings up my granola bars in the mornings. He waves a farewell and says to take it easy. Doesn't he know that life is never really easy? Or is that precisely why he's telling me to try? 
The librarian that welcomes me when I come to work through the afternoons. Her smiles are always so fleeting, a mere facade to the barren expression that quickly takes over. What can I do to make them genuine? What would help her? 
Every life has its own story; I only get to see mere snapshots. I can muddle and muddle all I wish about the whos and whats and whys, but in the end, I will never fathom that there are billions of lives as important and meaning-filled as mine. But I can imagine. And I know that I will try. 
~E