Day 21

Dear Someone I Judged By My First Impression,

I judge people all the time by my first impression. It's not something I'm proud of; it's almost a knee-jerk reaction. In this instance I remember it very clearly. My husband and I were at the funeral of his employee's wife. We arrived late because the church was down near the US border, more than two hours away and we got lost; we ended up going to the wrong church and our GPS took us along back roads in the middle of nowhere. By the time we arrived there was standing-room only. As the funeral ended you and your husband left your pew and walked toward us. I took in your short, spiky hair, your red wire-rimmed glasses, your fur coat, your much-too-short skirt for someone your age and for such an occasion and lastly, your thigh-high leather boots. I wondered what on earth you were thinking when you chose your ensemble. You caught my eye and we held each other's gaze for a moment. You looked as if to say, "And what of it??" I imagine I looked as if to say, "You look like a prostitute in a church." Not my proudest moment, but there it is.

To my horror, you and your husband walked right up to us. Your husband was another one of my husband's employees. They shook hands and smiled and introduced us, their wives. You and I smiled politely at each other and shook hands. I felt awful. But not as awful as I felt when we went to the parish hall afterward and you and I actually struck up a conversation. I was 6 or 7 months pregnant at the time and you asked me questions about the sex of the baby and if we had any names picked out. You were kind and soft-spoken. Afterward my husband told me that you suffered from depression and that your husband often had to stay home from work to care for you. 

Just call me evil incarnate.

If that one glimpse was all I had to go on, I would have believed you were a trashy, tactless woman, trying to recapture some long-lost youth. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I judged you so ruthlessly. Let it be a lesson to me I won't soon forget.

Melissa