lunch-time rush

There's a long line up of hungry lunchtimers that winds past the water fountain.  I stand at the edge of the parkette and wait for the line to dwindle before approaching.

Consuela is in full swing.  She smiles at her customers.  Some of them smile back.  Most of them are preoccupied with the music their iPhones are entertaining them with.  Consuela scoops up the meat with vigor and excitement before lovingly pouring it into a soft shell -- then a hard one -- then two soft ones.

There's something very rewarding about watching her take the change from her customers and pour it into her money pouch which she wears around her waist.

Holy Shit!

Consuela has a waist.

This Taco Stand really is doing wonders for her. 

I watch for a few more seconds without her noticing me; her shoulders seem to have more stature.  She's also wearing capris.  And flip flops.

It's a whole new Consuela.

When the crowd breaks, I walk over to her.  She doesn't notice me at first because she is busy cleaning up around the edges of her condiment trays.

"Hey!" I say and approach.

She gives me a fake kiss on one of my cheeks, and it takes everything in me not to laugh.  There's something very odd about a mis-matched capri outfit held together with a banana clip and topped off with a snotty kiss mostly used by socialites.

Interesting.

I look behind Consuela to see a sad looking boy staring at the Taco Stand.  He doesn't encroach on her space; but you can tell that he's hungry.  Beyond him are two older homeless men swapping stories and drinking from a paper bag.  They laugh as if there isn't a care in the world.

"Um...," I start and point with my eyes in the direction of the boy who is hungry.  I call him a boy, but he's in his late teens.  I try not to think about what brought him to the streets.

Consuela turns around, sees him, and then busies herself with grilling some more beef.  I watch for a moment as she smiles towards a few business men who appear as if they are walking towards the Taco Stand.  She smiles like a hooker in a red light district, but they don't take notice.

"Um....," I say again a little louder.  I can't tell her what to do.  Her heart has to grow into it.

She gives the boy a disdainful look but then reluctantly makes him two soft tacos and walks it over to him.

He smiles with a slight embarrassment, and then asks for something to drink.  Consuela pulls a Sprite out of her cooler and hands it to him.  As he wolfs down the first soft taco in record time; a cloud shifts.

A moment later when he cracks open the can of Sprite, a ray of sun beams down from the sky and graces Consuela's Taco Stand with a heavenly spotlight.

And just like that, a long line continues to form and Consuela once again busies herself with feeding the hungry people.

The boy eventually disappears, and a new one takes his place.  But this time Consuela doesn't wait for a break in the crowd.  She simply hands him two soft tacos and a Pepsi, before returning to her never ending lunch-time rush.

I waive as I walk away, knowing that Consuela is in good hands; as are the people she's feeding.

This Taco Stand has turned out to be a really good thing.