A tall, slender, dark brown-skinned eighteen-year-old girl, her torso wrapped in a bright white and blue towel, looked at me and smiled. Her eyes were lively and looked directly into mine. We had a two-minute exchange of information. She or I said Yes, and she continued up the stairs.  

In that moment, I felt my whole soul open. I felt warm. My whole being felt met by our momentary connection.  

It was so unlike the millions of moments of nothing between me and others. Or moments where so much is hidden, occluded between me and the other, even when there is genuine love and caring. To me, the occlusion is strange. It doesn’t mesh with my own way of being, which is quite open and gives and seeks visual affirmation. 

Is it because she is young? 

Or because she is African? 

Is the occluded eye from something self-protective we do in America? Or is done by western people?  

I wonder what we are afraid of revealing?