She walks through the door, holds it open with her right hand and smiles largely at those of us in the office.
"Hey ya'll!" She is excited to be here.
"Hey Caroline," we say to her. One of us is on the computer, emailing. Another is on the phone, selling. A third is in the kitchen, baking. We are worn out. We do not have her zest and we are thankful she brings it.
Caroline is fashionable in her own right. Perhaps she will wear dark, thick socks and her slip-on shoes or else she will arrive in genuine leather Cole Hahn loafers. A dress shirt with an outdated print on it will hide under a mustard-colored or else a hunter-green cardigan. Often she wears ankle pants. Tucked in or maybe not, her shirts appear haphazard and yet, she is always classy.
Her hair is an owl's nest, a poetic mess. Once I watched her pull a bobby pin from behind her left ear. She said, "I don't know how long it's been there." Today her hair is pulled back with assorted, mismatched clips. It eventually finds its way into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. It is anything but wispy. Tamed, somewhat, but certainly never a lack. Her hair is full and wavy, shouting "hellos" from every which way.
She dances through her work, opening wine bottles and setting out more crackers for all of our guests. Caroline is very graceful, and when I tell her she has a chipper aura about her, she laughs and says, "Do you really think so? I never have."
Well, yes, Caroline. Because of all these things about you, I do.
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