i went to wendy’s recently and a conversation i had with a worker there stuck with me. not really stuck with me, more like…yea i guess stuck with me. there’s this lady who is always so sweet in the drive-thru. she sparks up conversation, is very accommodating, and is overall sucha kind individual. i might’ve wrote about her on this blog before. anyways, we get to talking. she mentions how there’s construction workers drilling adjacent to the wendy’s. then she introduces her self as ms. lisa. she asks my name. i tell her, ratha. she asks if i’m cambodian. i tell her i am. she says she used to be a trainer in the early 2000’s and she trained with a cambodian girl. she goes onto say that she loves cambodian food and our culture and that her and her friend were the only two white people at khmer functions. then she asks if i knew a guy by the name of tommy. she mentioned his last name, but i forgot what it was. i told her no. she said he was popular with cambodians and he married a white girl with blonde hair and blue eyes. they had kids that are incredibly beautiful. ms. lisa then tells me her son is half-ghanan and that her dad told her that it’s not the color of someone’s skin, but the color of their heart which matters. i pulled forward to get my food, but i drove off thinking of how pleasant our conversations always are, but more than that, what god is trying to tell me.
specifics are beginning to distance themselves from generalizations so maybe i should close the gap on certain situations…
-ratha, 11:23am, 12.30.22