the lady with the vacant eyes
June 4, 2009 § 1 Comment
Last saturday, I was at the kopitiam near Risen Christ with fifi and APY and some of the legionaries who attended latin class too. It was late, with most of the stalls having closed or about to.
The cleaner came over to clear our plates. Usually, I’ll mutter a thanks and stare blankly at the plates as s/he undergoes the clearing. But this time, because she was explaining why she had to clear the plates (it being late), I looked up at her.
What struck me were her eyes. They were spiritless, as if it’s owner were no longer there. It almost seems she got lost somewhere along life.
The clearing of plates granted me silence for a few moments.
Later I commented about her eyes to fifi, who also thought they looked vacant. I might be reading too much into this, but deep within, I think that eyes tell a story. There are some with smiling eyes, they seem to look kindly at everyone they meet; there are some with nonchalant eyes, but still you believe there’s something they care about; there’re are some with earnest eyes, you wonder what they’re yearning for; some look at you with searching eyes, they’re trying to figure you out.
Everytime I’m inclined to dismiss a person and reduce them to their labels, I’m reminded that there’s so much more when I happen to even just glance at their eyes. But in her eyes, it was the lack of a story that was stark. It’s almost as if having a story doesn’t matter any more. They weren’t sorrowful, they weren’t searching, they didn’t tell a story at all, or hint of one.
And because of that, they were the saddest eyes I had ever seen.