I receive a fairly significant discount on books. There are even some books I can check out of the store for a small amount of time. I've got worlds of information at my fingertips, yet the only things I've been able to bring myself to read with any consistency lately are faces.
I love looks. I'd be a photographer, except I don't own a camera.
A couple of weeks ago at a dinner meeting among close friends who call each other "church," I saw a four year old boy turn around in his seat, drape his arms over the back of the chair, and give a distant look-- scanning the crowd as if he were lazily trying interpret the figure in a Monet. He then looked in my direction and gave one of those quiet half-exhale/half-smiles. This look has fueled my soul ever since.
Someone I know gives a confident knowing look when confronted with a complicated scenario that someone brings forth, even though said person has never given an ounce of thought space to said scenario. Yet when something of simple and mundane content is brought up to this person, a look of absolute and chaotic confusion sweeps the canvas of this person's face. It is the anticipation of both of these looks that make it difficult for me to drive a certain stretch of road every day.
I love the looks married people give each other in groups. I've been around enough married couples to know what certain looks mean. One of my favorite party tricks is announcing when one-half of the pair gives the other half the "It's time to go home" look. Anticipating my penchant for look interpretation, many of my couple-friends have taken to certain physical gestures to communicate. I'm learning to read these as well. They are just looks with touch.
Mostly, though, I'm consumed with the looks on the faces of those I no longer see. The wink. The smile. The looks given when no one else is around, when others are around. I will see these looks again, some on this side of the divide, others will have to wait a little while longer. Either way, I'll be looking.