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About
Everyday at exactly 4:30 PM, a little old woman would leave her house and take a thirty-minute walk. Not one second more, not one second less. Everyday one of my parents would greet her with a friendly “Hello!”, and she would just keep walking without a response. For the longest time, I thought she was the sourest, rudest old woman I’d never met.
This continued for many years, from third grade, to halfway through high-school. I would stare at her for a few seconds, expecting her to give me an evil glare in return to scare me off, but she just kept walking. She would always look forward. Never back, never to the left, or to the right. I distinctly remember how her forehead would wrinkle when she squinted, because of the early evening's sunlight. Even in the winter, that woman would walk. Through the rain, through a storm if necessary. It seemed like she was anticipating death.
One day, around the usual time, I looked outside for the old woman. I didn’t see her anywhere around. Automatically, I assumed the worst. I ran to her house and found her sitting in a chair watching the cars go by.
“I didn’t see you walking like you usually do, ma'am, I was just checking to make sure you’re alri-“
“26 years, 6 hours, and 3 minutes...that’s how long my husband has been gone. He was taken at the wrong time. Too early. You’re too young to understand.”
I didn’t know how to react. She looked so sad, like nothing meant anything to her. I’m sixteen years old, how am I supposed to console an old woman that I’ve never even said hello to?
“I know what you’re thinking, girl. ‘What can I say to this old bag?”
“It’s not that, ma'am, it’s just that I-...I’m not sure how to react I guess. I’ve never talked to you.”
“Well, I haven’t had much to say in the past 26 years. So many things have been taken from me. You would be a little hard to talk to when there’s nothing to talk about.”
I thought about it for a second. I felt bad, her wispy eyebrows were furrowed, trying to keep the tears in. I could feel the pain in her heart.
“Well, I’m Jessie, ma'am, and I am here. I would love to talk to you about anything.”
And so that day, the woman and I talked for hours. We talked about, friends, school, life. Anything and everything. These meetings became a daily thing. And I learned more about this woman. I learned how she traveled the world with her husband and climbed mountains, swam in waterfalls, rode elephants. She never told me how he died, and I never asked. It was sort of an unspoken agreement between us. Every time we met, I learned a little bit more. Everyday I became a little wiser from this woman's words.
However, the best lesson I’ve learned from the woman was the first lesson she inadvertently taught.
No matter how bad things may seem, all your problems can disappear with a little walk.
This continued for many years, from third grade, to halfway through high-school. I would stare at her for a few seconds, expecting her to give me an evil glare in return to scare me off, but she just kept walking. She would always look forward. Never back, never to the left, or to the right. I distinctly remember how her forehead would wrinkle when she squinted, because of the early evening's sunlight. Even in the winter, that woman would walk. Through the rain, through a storm if necessary. It seemed like she was anticipating death.
One day, around the usual time, I looked outside for the old woman. I didn’t see her anywhere around. Automatically, I assumed the worst. I ran to her house and found her sitting in a chair watching the cars go by.
“I didn’t see you walking like you usually do, ma'am, I was just checking to make sure you’re alri-“
“26 years, 6 hours, and 3 minutes...that’s how long my husband has been gone. He was taken at the wrong time. Too early. You’re too young to understand.”
I didn’t know how to react. She looked so sad, like nothing meant anything to her. I’m sixteen years old, how am I supposed to console an old woman that I’ve never even said hello to?
“I know what you’re thinking, girl. ‘What can I say to this old bag?”
“It’s not that, ma'am, it’s just that I-...I’m not sure how to react I guess. I’ve never talked to you.”
“Well, I haven’t had much to say in the past 26 years. So many things have been taken from me. You would be a little hard to talk to when there’s nothing to talk about.”
I thought about it for a second. I felt bad, her wispy eyebrows were furrowed, trying to keep the tears in. I could feel the pain in her heart.
“Well, I’m Jessie, ma'am, and I am here. I would love to talk to you about anything.”
And so that day, the woman and I talked for hours. We talked about, friends, school, life. Anything and everything. These meetings became a daily thing. And I learned more about this woman. I learned how she traveled the world with her husband and climbed mountains, swam in waterfalls, rode elephants. She never told me how he died, and I never asked. It was sort of an unspoken agreement between us. Every time we met, I learned a little bit more. Everyday I became a little wiser from this woman's words.
However, the best lesson I’ve learned from the woman was the first lesson she inadvertently taught.
No matter how bad things may seem, all your problems can disappear with a little walk.
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