yes, that's me

i walked past her on my way into the clinic. she was leaning hard on a walker with day-glo tennis balls on the front legs and she was slowly heading up the sidewalk to the same place as me. after i checked in and found a chair in the waiting room, i saw her again. but this time i realized that i knew her.

heleanor (not helen, and not eleanor ) was a counselor in the campus office where i worked as a student nearly 30 years ago. she had a thick patch of short silver hair and pronounced her own name "heleana" because of a swervy southern drawl that she was born with and never lost. she wore flowery blouses, plain trousers, and sandals. always sandals - even in the winter (with socks). she said she didn't like to feel confined, right down to her toes. she must have been close to 60 or more when i knew her back then.

she had an office which impressed me. anyone with an office, by virtue of those four walls and a real door and ceiling commanded my respect. she was important, knew her stuff, and had a need for privacy for confidential conversations and detailed work requiring focused concentration. the office itself was a mess. stacks and stacks of papers and files, procedure manuals and various dictionaries, and one small picture of a smiling woman; her partner.

heleanor was a lesbian and while she didn't talk about it much, it wasn't something she hid, either. she loved flowers, enjoyed poetry, was passionate about travel, and had a lover. as progressive as we all thought we were in 1980, there were still gossipy undertones about her being gay. funny, we could smoke at our desks and drink at 18, but being out at work was somehow odd. she retired shortly after i started working there, and i never saw nor heard of her again, until today.

she slid up to the desk in her white orthopedic socks, white pants, bright orange shirt, and black sandals. she still had that same shock of silver hair, and a wooden necklace of carved african animals swung heavy on her neck. her partner came in next after parking the car, and lightly rubbed her back during the check-in process. then, all checked in, she started towards the waiting room.

i looked at her straightaway and noticed that her lipstick, brilliant orange, matched her shirt. i smiled at her, she smiled back. i didn't introduce myself. i didn't think she'd know me.

she sat for a moment but only a moment, then popped up without her walker and started rummaging through the magazines to keep herself busy until she was called. she and her partner chatted sweetly, the love between them almost glowed.

30 years ago she looked old to me, today she looked beautiful.

"heleanor?" a nurse with a clipboard asked.

"why yay-us, that's me."