Rush hour

By Christine

The old lady sauntered from side to side, age pressed deep into her bones like a sea shell in the sand. I found myself walking fast so as not to be late to pick up the children from kindergarten. Puffing like a steam engine, I barely took note of the woman as I impatiently passed her.

She stepped off the sidewalk to let me zip by, taking off her head scarf to reveal a thick bun and grey-streaked hair.

"I'll just let you go ahead of me," she smiled. Her charm made me stop in my tracks. I knew this lady. She was the grandmother of my daughter's best friend. I strode back to where she was standing, wanting to have what she had in ample supply: calm.

"You know, I walk too fast. No matter what I do, I always seem to be in a hurry. I'd really like to walk with you. May I?" She nodded in agreement. The woman crossed the street with me in silence. As we made our way up the steep incline to the schoolyard, I expected her to complain about the weather or at least about her aches and pains. Instead, she asked how it was living in Germany as an American. She seemed very interested in my point of view and praised me for raising my children in two languages. Her openness astounded me. I mentioned how I missed my homeland for its vast expanse and incredible energy and belief that anything is possible.

"We Germans are so strict," she said as we reached the kindergarten door. Once again, I was taken aback by this woman's wisdom. Judging by her age, she must have suffered through some parts of World War II. Nonetheless, she embraced me with such fairness. I felt ashamed for having almost passed her by in the first place.

When I picked up my two children, my daughter caught me smiling.

"Why are you so happy?" Sophia asked curiously. I gave her a big squeeze and said nothing.

"Come on, Mom. Let's race!" she suggested as she and her brother bounded down the hill the old woman and I had just climbed.

"No, thanks," I said, half to myself. "Today I'm going to take it just a little more slowly."

Comments

[amy s.]

A beautiful entry. Love your description of her walk.