The Purpose Walk

Estelle knew she had to hurry up if she wanted to get this finished on time. Normally not one to dawdle, she had taken far too long on this matter and now was in danger of losing out. Walking down the street, her quick steps clicked with an urgency that even the steady rain and growing puddles could not muffle. Head held high, shoulder back, arms swinging ever so-slightly this was her purpose-walk. It was the walk she used whenever there was a crisis or urgent matter that needed to be dealt with. Today was just such a day for just such a crisis.

Darn those street lights, and darn her mother for raising her to obey them! Anxiety rose in Estelle’s chest and constricted her throat as she shifted her stance from foot to foot. The traffic signal was not going to listen to her silent prayers and urgings today. It ignored the impatient man beside her as he jammed his thumb into the pedestrian button over and over. She could hear her mother’s voice chiding Estelle for not being better prepared for the things that life throws your way, and for leaving things until the last minute.

“Child, that is just like you to take so long to figure out what you need to do. If you would just think first and act later, you wouldn’t be so jumpy all the time.” The words tumbled around in Estelle’s mind like spasmodic ping-pong balls.

Mama’s words eventually led to Estelle’s purpose-walk, and it had served her several times over her lifetime.

That silly traffic light was never going to change!

Estelle adjusted her purse strap more solidly on her left shoulder and gripped the part where the handle meets the pocketbook. She felt like a soldier preparing for not so much a battle, but a tactical maneuver that pretty much summed up Estelle’s life. She might as well use this time productively. When had she first choreographed the purpose-walk?

It was a late spring day after her freshman year at college. She had pleaded and cajoled with Mama to bring a new friend over for dinner and Mama said that would be wonderful. Mama made Estelle’s brothers and sisters dress especially for the occasion, and Papa wore his best Sunday clothes. This was the first boy coming to visit Estelle and he was a college boy who had come from Atlanta to Boston to study at Harvard.

“I can’t wait to meet this fine young man. He sounds like a real prize.” Mama said as she fixed Papa’s tie.

“Oh Mama, I am sure you will like him. He is funny, caring, and smart, plays three different sports, is on the debate team and plans to go to law school just like me.”

“Well, now our girl is a young lady and I am certain if he is anything like me, then things will be perfect. Just ask your Mama.” Papa’s eyes twinkled.

Estelle ran to answer the door and proudly hooked her arm into the young man’s and began her purpose-walk.

“Mama, Papa, this is Mark Miller, that I told you about.” Estelle watched as Mark introduced himself amid the silent faces in the living room.

“Pleased to meet you young man,” Mama offered “but Estelle you never told us that he was whi-”

“Wild about me? Oh absolutely Mama, he certainly is!”

Estelle shook her head at how twenty some years ago still felt so fresh and raw. It was the first real test of the purpose-walk that would prove that she was a woman of conviction. But now this silly reminiscing had cost her precious time again, and would that light ever change?

The wind picked up as the cars finally stopped and allowed Estelle to cross the road. There wasn’t much time left before the store closed. As she rushed through the door, she smiled. She knew little about new music, but could pick out the Rhianna and Maroon 5 tune her daughter loved so much. It symbolized just how things could change with enough time and enough heart.

The store clerk recognized Estelle and flashed a wide, sincere smile that was pretty rare these days. It was her way to let Estelle know that her mission was going according to plan.

“Hi Janet, did they arrive yet?” Estelle loosened her shoulders and placed her pocketbook on the counter.

“Good afternoon Estelle. I am so glad you made it on time. I know how much this means to you and I can’t wait to show you how all your work paid off.” The lady disappeared into the back of the store. Estelle surveyed the shelves and shelves of books and recalled how in college she longed to be a part of that exciting world exclusive to authors. But the professors told them write what you know, and she did. But what she knew about her own life and relationships was not what the rest of the world wanted to read. She wrote of love and sacrifice, of raising children and getting through the hard times. Wasn’t that what everyone wanted to read about? Sure they did, just not in the way Estelle Jackson and Mark Miller lived it.

She looked over at the two display tables near the front door. On one stood a huge selection of books about history and politics. Next to it was the table containing the store’s featured author of the month. This month it had been Dahlia Rose and there were two stacks of her book ‘Paradise Lost’, something Estelle could relate to. Last month, Sarah Reinke’s ‘Dark Thirst’ was featured to celebrate paranormal themes, but Estelle couldn’t get used to all that vampire stuff. I may be old-fashioned, but I need more man- meets-woman just like in my life she thought.

For years, Estelle had planned, prayed, dreamed and ached for the time when she would get to see her name in print; when she could finally base an incredible romance on her real life one.

“Oh Estelle, here they are!” Estelle turned to see not only the kindly bookstore lady but her beloved Mark coming out of the back store room carrying a huge cardboard box. His bluer-than-they-have-a-right-to-be blue eyes contrasted with his now snow white shock of hair. He gently placed the box on the counter and took a book out, holding it out to Estelle.

“You did it Stell. You’re now a published author. May I kindly have your autograph?” Mark produced a pen from his sports jacket pocket to make it almost impossible for her to refuse.

“Well now sir, who should I sign this for?” She loved teasing the man who had stood by her all these years when so many tongues clucked and eyebrows arched in their presence. They had overcome years of life to prove the naysayers wrong. They would not just make it but they would write the book on it.
Estelle leaned over the counter and wrote, ‘To my number one fan, who not only inspired this classic story of love and romance but helped by research it by living it out day after day.”

“Stell, this is so exciting. When I think of all those people who told you it could never happen, that no one would ever read a story about a strong black woman and a handsome white man, you proved them wrong.”

“Handsome?” she teased.

“Well, in a manner of speaking.” His face turned as red as a ripe tomato. “Just think dear, we showed them all.”

“Yes, we certainly did.”

“Well, time to get ready for our next monthly featured writer for Monday. I’m going to clear the table and make room for Estelle Miller.” The bookstore lady headed for the tables.

“Here let me help you with that.” Mark offered.

Estelle squared her shoulders and began her purpose-walk toward the table with an armload of her books titled ‘Romance in the Shades of Life’ and smiled as she watched Dahlia Rose removed to make way for Estelle Miller.

“I think this will be a great seller.” The bookstore lady never said something false. If she felt a book would sell, she felt it in her heart. If not, she never said a word.

“It ought to be.” Mark asserted. “It took Stell about a year and a half to write.”

“And almost three decades to live it, don’t forget that. Three decades of stares, mutterings and judgments.” Estelle added.

“You are one of the strongest women I know. We wouldn’t have made it without you and your courage. Now, it’s time to celebrate all that you are.” Mark began arranging Estelle’s books.

“Hmm. See I told you Dahlia that someday I would be just like you and claim my spot. Thank you dear for everything, but now, it is Estelle Miller’s turn to shine.