Well that was odd

It wasn’t quite a gag, and not even a cough.

Maybe a hack?

The noise echoed in the commercial-size bathroom, the tiles muffling and distorting its pitch.

A small woman in a camo shirt stood at the sink, washing her hands. She apologizes for the noise, saying her throat had become stuck.

“The economy here, many people say it is the best in the world.”

Her energy matches her hair, tight, expressive and memorable.

You can almost hear the electrical thrum as she explains that she’s discovered something incredible.  

“America is the greatest nation in the world,” she shares with a conspiratorial whisper.

Her grandmother, she continues, was told by spirits that she- unborn at the time- would protect the greatest nation in the world. Only recently, she says, has she come to understand her destiny.

She nearly vibrates with enthusiasm as she reaches out to touch my arm, asking if I would pray for her, and did I know God?

“I do know God,” I answer with increasing curiousity and feeling, I add that I would love to pray for her.

We have introductions and hug. 

I ask her if she knows God.

She says yes, of course.

With building energy continues, “Yes, I do! I have the intuition as a gift. I can see in the hearts of people. I see many warriors. Beauty is within, not from without. Some people do not see beyond the outside of me.”

I tell her she is beautiful, and her English is very good.

She thanks me.

She sees the spirits, she says. The ghosts. Those who have been before, she explains, are still here, and enter in when one is born. She asks if I understand.

I’m not able to follow her there. I tell her I have not heard of this.

She smiles, shaking her head in the negative. “You know of this. If you did not, I would not have spoken to you. I see it in you.”

Wanting to pursue the topic, but meeting resistance, I again promise to pray.

She acts unsurprised—having seemingly been confident before she even asked that I would agree to bring her before the King.

She asks my name again, I once again tell her, and tell her that it’s been a pleasure to meet her.

We embrace once more and walk out of the echoing, tiled bathroom.

We’re sitting just a table away.

Her back is to me; she pours over her computer, studying fervently for her upcoming test. I’m all but invisible to her. She doesn’t even look up.

Watching her livewire hair, I’m not sure what just happened.