I am afraid to sleep. I have been afraid to sleep
for the last few weeks. I am so tired that, finally, I do sleep, but only for a
few minutes. It is not a bad dream that wakes me; it is the reality I took with
me into sleep. I try to think of something else. Immediately the
woman in the marketplace comes into my mind. I was on my way to
dinner last night when I saw her. She was selling skirts. She moved with the
same ease and loveliness I often saw in the women of Laos. Her long black hair
was as shiny as the black silk of the skirts she was selling. In her hair, she
wore three silk ribbons, blue, green, and white. They reminded me of my
childhood and how my girlfriends and I used to spend hours braiding ribbons into
our hair. I don’t know the word for "ribbons", so I put my hand
to my own hair and , with three fingers against my head , I looked at her
ribbons and said "Beautiful. " She lowered her eyes and said nothing. I wasn’t
sure if she understood me (I don’t speak Laotian very well). I
looked back down at the skirts. They had designs on them: squares and triangles
and circles of pink and green silk. They were very pretty. I decided to buy one
of those skirts, and I began to bargain with her over the price. It is the
custom to bargain in Asia. In Laos bargaining is done in soft voices and easy
moves with the sort of quiet peacefulness. She smiled, more
with her eyes than with her lips. She was pleased by the few words I was able to
say in her language, although they were mostly numbers, and she saw that I
understood something about the soft playfulness of bargaining. We shook our
heads in disagreement over the price; then, immediately, we made another offer
and then another shake of the head. She was so pleased that unexpectedly, she
accepted the last offer I made. But it was too soon. The price was too low. She
was being too generous and wouldn’t make enough money. I moved quickly and
picked up two more skirts and paid for all three at the price set; that way I
was able to pay her three times as much before she had a chance to lower the
price for the larger purchase. She smiled openly then, and, for the first time
in months, my spirit lifted. I almost felt happy. The feeling
stayed with me while she wrapped the skirts in a newspaper and handed them to
me. When I left, though, the feeling left, too. It was as though it stayed
behind in marketplace. I left tears in my throat. I wanted to cry. I didn’t, of
course. I have learned to defend myself against what is hard;
without knowing it, I have also learned to defend myself against what is soft
and what should be easy. I get up, light a candle and want to
look at the skirts. They are still in the newspaper that the woman wrapped them
in. I remove the paper, and raise the skirts up to look at them again before I
pack them. Something falls to the floor. I reach down and feel something cool in
my hand. I move close to the candlelight to see what I have. There are five long
silk ribbons in my hand, all different colors. The woman in the marketplace! She
has given these ribbons to me! There is no defense against a
generous spirit, and this time I cry, and very hard, as if I could make up for
all the months that I didn’t cry. Why did the writer cry eventually when she looked at the skirts again
A. she suddenly felt very sad.
B. she liked the ribbons so much.
C. she was overcome by emotion.
D. she felt sorry for the woman.