Sometimes I meet people and think I know who they are. The truth is I haven’t a clue. They are, like Shrek explains, like onions, with many layers and I just see the papery outer covering. And as Donkey goes on to say, some are stinky. Donkey likes something else with layers, he likes parfaits. I like parfaits, but a diet of sweets is not good mentally or physically. Onions can be delicious, but eventually you come to an end, no more layers.
I prefer to think of a giant jawbreaker, the kind so large all you can do is hold it in your hand and lick. Eventually the white coating is digested and a new color appears. My sister had one for over a year. She only licked one side so she could see all the layers. Maybe 50 or maybe 100, each thinner than paper, yet each one bright and different.
I had only seen Kay’s papery onion skin and a little of the outer layers. I knew she was vegetarian, a lyrical and honest writer, an administrator. I knew she was fiercely loyal to the writing group. And I knew she liked yogurt and apples.
Today I’ve seen the layers of bunny lover and rescuer, poet, and goddess. I see honesty and truth that is precious to me. I am glad to have seen a few of the colorful layers that protect her core. With openness and acceptance, a wonderful friendship is evolving in its own sweet time.