That moment, that Miss America Moment, when you arrive at a venue, breathless and brisk, unintentionally delayed by a bazillion red lights –
That moment when you whisk in the door, hoping to be surreptitious, but are greeted with sea of smiles and sprinkle of waves –
That moment when you smile and enter unphased, with later apologies to the speaker. It was not the point to draw attention; it wasn’t the bright garb or pretty face. It was the kind smile and responsiveness to others that garnered the warmth. It was genuine goodness and positive humanity: ardent and undeniably out-going. It’s a much-grieved annoyance to some and a boon to others. Lovely, loving, and FUN!
I was born this way. C’est moi. My friend, Larry, likens me to a fountain, spinning around a room, sprinkling peace and joy like holy water. My husband, Larry tells me, “Don’t ever change,” when I’m buffeted and character-slayers roust about, clutter the environment and seek to destroy and defame.
That moment when the famous writer, seated at the front table, looks around the room, to-and-fro from you and around the room, seeking to know who you are. Wondering, pondering, fretting with wrinkled brow that she didn’t recognize you…
That moment when you smile and dip your chin, that moment when you smile to reassure…another new friend.
That moment, that Miss America Moment, is fleeting but it buoys. It’s savored, tucked away, replayed-and-replayed to buttress this chicka with dastardly doings hover and threaten to strike. “Hiss, hiss” rather than “Kiss, kiss.”
That moment, that Miss America Moment, when someone clicks a picture while you savor another’s flowers, and flash that smile that God gave… your mother’s smile, they say.
That moment, that Miss America Moment, is spontaneity itself, joy unleashed. To share.
That Moment, that Miss America Moment, lives forever. Precious memory to shutter other pains.
Remember that moment. Cherish it: kiss, kiss. It’s better than famous. It’s well-wished.
That moment is bliss.