He prefers structured skirts that reach mid-thigh.

And heels that are no more than two-inches or so (though I’ve sworn I’ve seen him wear a pair that were a shade higher) that show off his toes.  Yes, the strappy kinds.  I’ve seen him wear them in white and earth-tones.  The shoes, not the skirts.  The skirts are often plaid or khakis or like today, a floral number that went so well with his skin.

If I had legs like his – strong muscular, smooth swimmer type legs – I would wear those types of skirts too.  But these cherub style legs of mine will just have to be content to be hidden beneath slacks and shown off during the occasional skirt/capri season.  Which don’t come often.

Today’s ensemble – a red/pink floral skirt with white strappy heels and a men’s two front pocket shirt, in white – fit him so well.  He seemed to be such at ease as he sat on the bus bench, smoking his cigarette, reading a dictionary thick book.  His head is generally shaved as well as his beard but on a occasion, he is prone to leaving his hair and beard in 2 or 3 day growth, which isn’t bad on him or his skirts.

I used to see this Older Gentleman frequently.  I am assuming he lives in the area of the grocery store where I do my shopping.  This odd melange of young and old neighbors, Jewish, Asian and Haitian neighbors that always strikes me as an odd thing, though I am not sure why.  It is not unheard of to run into a Jewish gentleman wearing his yarmulke and Tzitzit doing his market next to a Haitian woman, in her Americanized Haitian way of dressing – pressed jeans/skirt, nice clean blouse and leather shoes.  I suppose that is why I go to this particular grocery store, I get to see everyone in their separateness, be the same.

Except with this Older Gentleman, who likes wearing skirts and heels.  He was decidedly not the same, though his efforts were him trying to be.  I love him, in the way that, though I am sure he has faced ridicule and possibly has been called unspeakable names, at his age (which I am guessing to be mid to late fifties/sixties) he is still evolving, reaching out and walking into Himself.  He walks with his skirts unashamed.  He walks in his heels carrying only the weight of his self expression on his shoulders.

I often wonder what his story is, what events in life have propelled him to this space in his life and what he thinks of it all.  I’m not sure I ever thought him odd, just possibly misunderstood.  I often pray that he is not harassed or that his home life is not inhospitable.

I really wish him to be loved and to continue walking into himSelf.