Old lady in the bus
Coming in the bus I sit across from an old lady dressed in a gorgeous scarlet coat, sheer stockings, black pumps with shiny silver buckles ...her white-blond hair swept up in a bun with a few wisps falling down to her face. Her clear wrinkled face puts her around 70 but she is dressed better than a lot of young people...including me. Her face is made up with black eyeliner, a hint of mascara, and bright red lipstick on her thin lips. Her hands look well taken cared of and they hold a small black purse in their grip.
I stare at her and admire her for caring about her appearance. She looks elegant and sophisticated ...and judging by her face and slim, petite figure I can imagine that she was stunning in her younger years.
I wonder about her. Does she have children? Did she live a good life? Is she married or a widow? Never married (hard to imagine)?
What did her cloudy blue eyes see in her lifetime? Were the soft wrinkles around her face due purely to time's etching marks or years of laughter, pain and sorrow?
Was she happy? And most importantly...
...was she LOVED?
As the thoughts ran through my head, she suddenly stood up and walked towards the front bus doors to get off at her stop. She left not knowing that she touched me in a way that I can't quite explain. Without speaking a word or giving me a glance...she became an inspiration to me.
I hope I stay young at heart all of my life.
I stare at her and admire her for caring about her appearance. She looks elegant and sophisticated ...and judging by her face and slim, petite figure I can imagine that she was stunning in her younger years.
I wonder about her. Does she have children? Did she live a good life? Is she married or a widow? Never married (hard to imagine)?
What did her cloudy blue eyes see in her lifetime? Were the soft wrinkles around her face due purely to time's etching marks or years of laughter, pain and sorrow?
Was she happy? And most importantly...
...was she LOVED?
As the thoughts ran through my head, she suddenly stood up and walked towards the front bus doors to get off at her stop. She left not knowing that she touched me in a way that I can't quite explain. Without speaking a word or giving me a glance...she became an inspiration to me.
I hope I stay young at heart all of my life.
posted by Lonesome Dreamer @ 7:40 p.m.
3 Comments:
At August 24, 2007 at 6:13 a.m. ,
Anonymous said...
Dreamer, like you, I admire men and women who take good care of themselves inside and out. I've been outrun and outswum by people in their 60s and 70s where I train. They make up a small percentage of people in that age group who understand that biological aging and deterioration are two different things.
The opposites on the spectrum are those wrinkly old ladies with the bent back and a lazy cigarette in their mouth. We can only hope to look as good or be as well kept as this woman.
P.S. I run sometimes with a 78 year old woman who is training for a half-marathon. From the back, she looks about 40, if that.
At August 24, 2007 at 10:01 a.m. ,
Firefly said...
^ LoL.
Dreamer, that was an interesting episode. It's strange how random people can have such an effect on you. It usually happens when you are in a reflective mood. I bet if you were in a hurry or worried about something you wouldn't have paid much attention to her.
At August 27, 2007 at 6:21 p.m. ,
Lonesome Dreamer said...
Aya,
I know. I find it sad that 'a lot' of Somalis...when they pass 50...out comes the walking cane. It's like they all become invalid or something.
Firefly,
Your right. But that's why I like public transport. I always daydream...and it gives me such a diverse crowd to work with. I'm a people watcher.
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