I had some sort of contact with three ladies this week that I cannot get out of my head. I met one, saw one briefly as she crossed the street, and passed one while hiking both up and down a mountain.
I wanted to hang out with all three and possibly become friends, but for now, I just need to describe seeing them and get them out of my head. Let me just say, I am writing about my accounts of these interactions, just what, to me, was going on.

We shall start with the first (duh), a visitor at my office. she had recently moved back here, and after some relationship Hurdles with a capital H, she was looking to start new, just her. She was 51, her kids were grown. That’s about all the backstory I feel comfortable giving, but I definitely connected with some of the points she hit on about her former loves. So I talked with her at length about the “old” Phoenix area, about great places for unique food, and the best places in town to try and rent a place. She ended up giving me a hug and that sealed the deal. I wanted to be this lady’s friend. I didn’t want to come off pushy, so I just gave her my card and told her if she wanted to talk – about the area or anything in general – to email me. I hope she does.

The next was a woman I saw in the briefest of passings as I was at a stoplight, but I cannot stop thinking about her “aura.” Semi-tall and lean, her big cobalt blue topknot added to her height. She was wearing some cute outfit, but I don’t remember it that much because I was looking at her face. She was walking across the street, holding the arm of her beau, and eating an ice cream cone. It was about 5, so it was before the dinner hour – just an ice cream for ice cream’s sake. Her face is what seared her into my brain this week. She had the happiest, self-satisfied look on her face. She was strutting because she had some love, some ice cream, and she was looking and feeling great. The happiness that bounded out of her hit me and I felt her joy, and it felt gooood. Also, I wonder what kind of ice cream it was…

The last was a girl, maybe early 20s, hiking in a full face of unmistakably non-hike makeup. Not that I think hiking with makeup is a crime, to each their own; I have been know to reapply eyeliner and lipstick before lacing up my boots and slathering on sunscreen. Her makeup was meritorious in perfection and color theory. Hair slicked back in a ponytail, which works for any activity, really. Very bold eyebrows, arched and darkened accordingly, and the deepest, plummiest wine lipstick. Soft pink off-the-shoulder tee and black leggings. I wanted to stop her and crown her the “Goth Queen of Trail #44,” but she seemed determined to neither want to sweat, or be there after dark.