It's more like a honing

" when someone hones a piece of wood," she said to me in the parking lot, sunlight dancing on silver hair and hazel eyes. She'd approached me as I made my way to the car. She remarked, "Oh that's pretty, I can see the trees through the red in your hair," and she pointed at the 2 crimson leaved trees growing in an island in the middle of the parking lot. I looked at her and paused, a little taken back by her tender observation. Surprised slightly by her own proclamation, she laughed softly as she spoke, "I'm just being myself," she replied to my curious gaze. "Being more myself," she smiled. "I'm still working on that," I said as I turned my head and began walking again toward the car. 


"It's like a honing," She continued. "Like when someone hones a piece of wood," she smiled and looked around then, "Happy New Year," she said as she carried on across the lot.

Happy New Years to you too I followed. Ah yes, it is more like a honing. I'll feel more myself in time. Each day is a discovery. Sometimes a stranger sees the beauty that you can't yet recognize, but you can see the beauty in them. I think that's maybe how it's supposed to be.