March 5th, 2014

Today during 6th period I made coffee in the teachers' lounge. The women
in the room discussed the way they learned to prepare coconut milk. One
woman is from Puerto Rico and the other from Jamaica, and they both refer
to their home as "the island". One grates the coconut, the other uses a blender
on the "grate" setting to prepare the pulp. My grandmother would take the
shavings and rub them all over her legs and arms says the woman whose
home is Puerto Rico. I never take medication says the woman whose home is
Jamaica. Each woman takes turns sharing and listening and their eyes
squint with laughter. The woman from Puerto Rico sang a beautiful traditional
song from her island to me months ago, as the summer died at professional
development. She threw her voice as if it were a lasso trying to catch the note,
or as if it were a sob competing for the ear against the crash of ocean waves.
You are beautiful and young, many men love you, but my white hair betrays me
the song said. Someday soon a love will come and claim you the song said.

                     __________________________________________

And when they said the coconut oil is bad for you, well, we just didn't listen
says one of the women. Right, says the other, and now it is in everything!
Don't they make lotions from it now? she says turning to the younger woman
sitting between the two and listening with a respect that stuns and stills me
so I sit too, to listen and learn. Yes. says the younger woman, it's all the rage.
yes continues one of the older women and it is good for your hair and your skin 
and your lips. And you can cook with it even. These are true things and I like
to sit and listen and sip my coffee and eat the tiny chocolate eggs someone has
left out in small bowls on the table. I am silent. I have nothing to add but this
conversation continues, women sharing secrets of beauty and cooking and health
and each one shines from her cheek bone as if touched by a god. I leave the room
without a goodbye because they are all three talking at once now, in excitement,
over something I can't remember. As I turn the lock to my classroom door and let
the students in, I am glad for beauty everywhere, in youth and age, equally dwelling.