She wore bowling shoes and carried a basket like Dorothy. It was hard to tell if the plaid pants she had on were long Capri’s or short because she carried a few extra pounds. But she didn’t care because the colors where coordinated. Red’s, blacks and white. Bowling shoes were not her only pair of shoes, but one of her favorite. She liked them mostly because she, from time to time would notice people looking at them. They rarely said anything to her about the shoes. But often smiled or even giggled. She wrote that off as her contribution to happy for the day. People were so unhappy. If her shoes brought on a smile, maybe it was the first in a long while.

It’s hard to imagine the hundreds of people you see every week or even every day. Who they are, where they come from, what makes them happy? Are they happy? Sometimes you see someone and you know … or do you.

She got on the bus and sat down with a smile on her face. She seemed happy and carefree. But maybe I was the first person to see her in days. Maybe she walked through life believing that she was invisible. Maybe she had been invisible for so long that see grew to appreciate it or understand it. Or just accept it as the way life would be. After all, did she really need more than she had?

Life had not handed her a bad story. Just, in her opinion, one with not much flavor. She was born, went to grammar school and high school. She went off to college with everyone and didn’t quite fit in. It seemed that those around her is where stuff happened. At least she knew some people that exciting things happened to. Actually she was fine with watching all of it. She didn’t really like much being in a spotlight or attracting the attention that other did. She felt it was too much responsibility to be there and she wasn’t sure she could adequately deliver a worthy product. So she was find with sitting back.

As she road the bus that day to fill her basket; who cared about childhood or college? The mundane needed to be completed. She needed four apples, three maybe four bananas and a yogurt.

As the streets past and the numbers got smaller she wondered who she would see. Feeling more or less invisible she didn’t often notice people around her either. Well she might not have noticed them, but she was careful and always aware of their space. It came as a second nature to move through the day like she was the only one there. How often had someone stepped in front of her or blocked her view of something? Like she wasn’t there? She always thought it odd, but just moved over to another spot hoping for a clear view.

The basket was actually a bit bigger than that one that Dorothy carried and it didn’t have a cover on it. But it was just right for what she could carry at any given time. She didn’t originally get the basket for errand. But on her way out one day she saw the basket out of the corner of her eye and was compelled to take it along. That was 7 years ago. She knew by now that if she was by chance seen somewhere along the way, she would be remembered for the basket if nothing else.