This morning after my chores and getting Sweet Husband off to the gym, I sat down out on the back porch with my lap-top to check out the blogs and other detritus which had piled up in my email overnight. We had heavy rains all night, and SH had washed the porch just a couple of days ago. I had high hopes of being able to enjoy some quiet porch time free of power saws or lawn crews since it was now so wet outside. The rain had only slowed just a few minutes before, so I was also hoping for some relatively pollen-free air for an hour or so.
The quiet was blissful, the air smelled Spring cleaned, and only a light layer of pollen had accumulated in the last two days on the tabletops. I finished checking through the email, set the laptop aside and opened my book. More on this book later -- but I was sniffling through the last fifty pages over all the promising young men so needlessly sacrificed to the egos of haughty old men-in-charge of yet another useless war, alternately smiling, too, because a love story was working out after all, when my trance was abruptly interrupted by a loud hollering.
I looked up, startled. Across the fence at the house where those yahoos cut down all the trees three years ago, a young Hispanic woman was singing at the top of her lungs with an unseen iPod and salsa dancing two big green garbage bags across the deck! Then she danced her way down the deck stairs singing her head off, then having deposited the bags in the can with loud clangs of the lids, back up the stairs she danced, and then back and forth across the deck. She, too, was obviously reveling in the rain-fresh clean air of a late Spring morning just as I was.
She continued to sing in Spanish at the top of her lungs, every so often making that trilling noise with the tongue which I don’t know how to label or describe, punctuated with yips, but I hope you understand what I mean even though my vocabulary is limited here, shaking that ample booty, making circles in the air all the while with her pointing fingers on each hand. She salsa’d to the left, then she salsa’d to the right, and she shook that booty some more, totally oblivious to her unseen audience of one.
I couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear at her contagious joie-de-vivre. You know, I thought to myself, if you have to be a maid, by God this is the way to approach it. 'Whistle while you work,' as those seven dwarfs sang in “Snow White.” She certainly had the best attitude of any housecleaner I ever saw!
I have known other people who have made the best of menial jobs, approaching them with a happy spirit, refusing to be dragged down by their life situation, maybe one over which they had absolutely no control. However, this morning this young woman affirmed the newness of the season, the eternal hope that Spring always brings that life can be joyful in spite of one’s station in life.