Full Circle

I guess you could say I've always had a thing for striking black women.

Today I met with a new client in her home. She looked like a darker-skinned Erykah Badu. Her hair was wrapped in a beautiful cloth; she was graceful with long hands; had large and wide-set eyes; nice teeth with the perfect sized gap between the top front ones; and wore linen clothes. Her home smelled of incense and was decorated with African art. When she opened the door for me, she said "wow, you're pretty." I was speechless, finally mustering a "that's so nice, thank you."
Later, when she was signing her paperwork, I noticed that you could tell by her signature that she is an artist (which she is).

When I left, I thought of my first day of Montessori school. The girl sitting next to me during music time was bigger than me. She had this amazing, full head of poofy black hair. It was almost an Afro. During music class, I couldn't resist and I buried my face in her hair. The teacher scolded me and it was my first lesson in boundaries.

Don't worry, I didn't do that today. It wouldn't have been professional.