Holding the Light, by Angela Maggronealda

I sit in the corner of the Gathering Space. It’s quiet as everyone still sleeps at this early hour. The only people who pass me are preparing for the new day. The light passes through the window behind me. It gives everything a new light, especially the workers. The lady in the store works diligently as she stacks the shelves. She’s focused as she places each item. Perhaps she’s thinking of a family at home or a sick parent away. I bet she would be very gentle from the way she sets the fragile sweets in their places. She continues working and moves to the money box. The bills move quickly in her hands as she counts out the day’s worth. She’s clearly had practice. I take a closer look at her features. Her face looks younger, but her eyes seem old. She must have started working early in her life. 

Footsteps break the silence as they approach the room. Another worker comes in carrying a small rag. He has a wide grin and walks as if dancing to unheard music. He reaches the store and begins wiping down the glass. As he works, he waves enthusiastically at the lady. I don’t realize I’m smiling until I feel my cheeks ache. The man begins talking to the lady; she smiles as well. I see him in my mind’s eye greeting people on their way to class and lifting their spirits. 

The lady begins speaking to him, gently. Her old eyes now grow younger as she smiles at the man. He responds, enthusiastically enough for me to hear, but I’m so absorbed in the sight I do not register it. The lady laughs and continues speaking. 

A sudden bustle of people breaks my gaze from the two people as I realize the school has begun to wake up. Through the crowd I see the lady gesture for the man to move. I follow him as he joins a group of students and catch my breath. It’s the group of needs students.  I look down, realizing that I never saw him dancing before whenever he walked away, or how he made people smile. 

I glance back to the lady in the store, now busy attending to early customers heading to class. Though rushed by hurried students, she still works as tenderly and precisely as she did before. 

As I pick up my books to head to class, I realize the light through the window is gone.  However, taking one last look at the two workers, they still hold the light they had earlier.  Just like they had before I had realized it.