The Art that is Woman

I adore those occasions when the beauty of women catches me off guard.

Now let me be clear, I don't mean those fun, sophomoric occasions like when a woman's boob pops out of her top. Of course I have fond memories of those moments, too. Like while at the Jr. High graduation trip to the water park. Dee, a popular blond who probably didn't even know I existed, happened to be behind me in line for the water slide. Dee crashed into the pool moments behind me, then arose before me out of the bubbling water with her bikini top askew. *sigh* Memories of a young Daunt. Good times.

No, I am not talking about just more skin, I am talking about those surprising unexpected times that cause your breath to catch and you freeze hoping to draw out the moment so you can savor it as long as possible. Those candid, delightfully simple times that you catch a glimpse of the art that is Woman.

I was lucky enough to have one of those brief, lovely interludes this morning. Sacramento can get quite hot in the summer but as of late the mornings have been very nice. I pulled into the office parking lot and parked in the same spot I park every day; it was your typical Monday morning. I put my coffee cup in the cup-holder and noted the slight smell of cut grass. Upon pulling the parking brake I turned my head to the right. Looking out the passenger window all the thoughts of me and my day danced off into the ether as I sat mesmerized by the little movie playing out for an audience of one. Me.

Four parking spaces down, under the filtered morning light of the trees, a woman stood next to the open back door of her SUV. At first I didn't think much of it, I had seen her before; we work at the same office building. She is attractive, but not unusually so; probably in her 30s and brunette. Of course she was dressed professionally, smoke gray knee length skirt, white blouse and a black light knit sweater. Then it happened. Oblivious and totally without intent or knowledge, she cast a spell that froze me in place. She bent her knee, raising her lovely bare calf behind her, then reached down and removed her right shoe. Then reached in the car, set a black pump on the pavement and gently slipped her bare foot into it. She repeated the process for the left foot. Time had slowed so my eyes could drink in the lines of her calves, the smooth skin, the arch of her dainty feet. Thunk, and like the snap of of hypnotist's fingers, the car door shutting awakens me from a daze. She picks up her laptop bag, turns and strides toward the office building's doors.

It is interesting to ponder that she had no idea I was watching and that she likely thought nothing of it. I am sure she had no idea how graceful she moved and how beautiful she was . She had no idea that in that moment she was a work of art.

I shake my head, suddenly aware I'm breathing again and the thoughts about my day begin to try and crowd their way back into my head. I smile, for the time being they don't have a chance. My mind is lingering on the art... the art that is Woman.