Sunday, July 24, 2011

Mother's mother.

A busy morning, an elderly woman, a van stuffed with passengers like a can of sardines and I.
Carrying bags of vegetables that numbered more than her fingers, guess she just got back from the local market. Standing behind her, I saw each wrinkles of her hands that I like to think resembles her life's events.
She was ahead of everybody else but sat last before me. Preoccupied with her burdens, I joined in and sat beside her with my bag on my left hand and two of hers at my right. Without a word she took (snatched) them from me once we're both seated. At this moment, my eyes are still at her hands with her greens, hoping to hear a "thank you" but none was uttered.
I arrived my destination and off I went without looking back at her bags, her hands nor her face. Did she once took a glimpse of me or any parts of me while I was sitting or as I was walking away?
Its now quarter before midnight. I miss my grand mama.

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