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Mar. 1st, 2006 05:45 pm
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There is a woman who rides on my bus almost every morning. She's probably in her early 70s, maybe late 60s and has been taking the commute into Boston from Lexington for longer than I have. We rarely speak and I rarely sit near her, as she prefers to put her bag next to her. We both read our paperback novels and if we make eye contact we smile politely.
What I have never had the courage to say to her is that she looks more like my grandmother than her own sister did- at least to my brain. I can tell that she has arthritis from the way she holds the book. It makes the resemblence that much more striking. The shape of her face and the way she styles her hair. And always reading. It pains me to see her, and yet I'm drawn to her like like moth to a flame. I know she's not my grandmother, but she has symbolically become her.
While I was walking the 3 blocks home from the bus stop, I was composing this story in my mind and coming back to the puzzle of how do I express this strange non-connection to this woman whose name I don't even know? If I do, will she think I'm scary? But, ah-hah, I think. I will simply ask her if she is related to < my grandmother >, rather than launch into the emotionally thick issue of "you look like a beloved and dead relation." I am 99% certain she couldn't possibly be. But if she is, what a treasure. Mind you, I would kick myself for not saying it instantly 4 years ago when I first saw her....
What I have never had the courage to say to her is that she looks more like my grandmother than her own sister did- at least to my brain. I can tell that she has arthritis from the way she holds the book. It makes the resemblence that much more striking. The shape of her face and the way she styles her hair. And always reading. It pains me to see her, and yet I'm drawn to her like like moth to a flame. I know she's not my grandmother, but she has symbolically become her.
While I was walking the 3 blocks home from the bus stop, I was composing this story in my mind and coming back to the puzzle of how do I express this strange non-connection to this woman whose name I don't even know? If I do, will she think I'm scary? But, ah-hah, I think. I will simply ask her if she is related to < my grandmother >, rather than launch into the emotionally thick issue of "you look like a beloved and dead relation." I am 99% certain she couldn't possibly be. But if she is, what a treasure. Mind you, I would kick myself for not saying it instantly 4 years ago when I first saw her....
ETA 7.20.09: It turns out the woman's name is Harriet and she worked at Fidelity until she was laid off last year. We ended up talking fairly regularly before my schedule changed and then she wasn't on the bus anymore. She's a really nice and interesting woman with - I think- 20 grandkids.
