I’d never seen her in my life and yet just the sight of her made me uncomfortable. Our distinctions were loudly conspicuous, it was hard to imagine having anything in common with her. She spoke Yiddish and I, English. Her hair was cropped short while mine fell past my shoulders. She was dressed in a conservative suit, I was wearing a sweatshirt.
We were absolute opposites, our silent exchange was nothing but the encounter of two perfect strangers, so as turned the corner I couldn't help but wonder what is was about her that gnawed the way it had?
Which is crazy, isn't it, it dawned on me after...She was a Jewish girl, like me. She lights candles every Friday night; like me. We pray to the same G-d and celebrate the same holidays. We have differing traditions, maybe. Follow different trends, sure. But aren’t we sisters, nonetheless? Don't we descend from the same nation? Haven’t we come from the same past? And aren’t we headed toward the same destiny?
How did it get this way? When did we let it get so far? Isn’t it crazy that I can look at her and pretend we have nothing in common when we only have the same blood pumping through our veins?
Our eyes lock momentarily, hers black, darting back and forth, uneasy. She scans me briefly from head to toe and then shifts her gaze as if it were a all a mistake.
I’ve never seen her in my life but I smile, like I know her.
She smiles back, slowly, surprised that I’ve picked her out of the crowd at DSW.