Ro

My name is Ro and I am a liar. I remember the day that I realized that I had been lying to myself for an incredibly long time. It’s never the nicest of things to acknowledge, but I suppose there is some value in getting to such a place.

It was a Thursday, one of those days where you run back and forth between locations and appointments, mostly because your day was poorly planned, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could really do about it.  I had to go into school, for a lecture at half ten, then come back home for a conference call at 1:30, then be back at campus for drinks at five, before a dinner at half seven.  Basically a day where you are exhausted before you take a step out the door.  Fabulous.

While brushing my hair on the bus that morning ( one of my mother’s most hated of  my time saving strategies), I noticed a tall-ish man.  This is not a surprise, as I tend to notice most tall-ish men, because at a staggering  5’3, I often fear being crushed.  Still, I noticed him. And I did something almost strange on my part – I smiled at him while looking him dead in the eyes. Then, the strangest thing was he smiled back. I countered with the most logical thing:  I looked at his shoes.

They were grey, a pair of lived in Chuck Taylors with laces that ...