Tears on Mountain View

Picture found on the internetThis morning I hopped on my trusty 2-month old "old lady bike," as I refer to it, to go to Andy's Market for a couple of packages of firm tofu and some peanut butter. Andy's is about a half mile from our house.

Recently Husband and I committed ourselves to cycling if we needed to go anywhere in this little burg where we live and work. So we're only driving the cars if we have to go out of town, have to haul some very bulky load, or maybe when we're going to church. It's saving gas and dollars, and I've been surprised how it's making me feel physically as though I "belong" here a little bit more. I know, I know ... I've lived here seven years now, but third culture kids tend not to put down roots, and I haven't felt safe enough to put mine down after leaving my last home, which I loved.

As I was picking out my route to the market, I decided to take Mountain View Avenue, the street parallel to ours. I don't typically cycle down that road. No special reason, I just haven't done it.

As I was coasting down Mountain View, I saw a lady with her dog on a leash walk out a ways in front of me. She was wearing summer clothes befitting our 100+ degree heat these days, and the wrap-around dark glasses that old people sometimes wear over their regular glasses. A flash of annoyance crossed my mind as I saw that she was paying no attention whatsoever to me. She hadn't even noticed me, and had stopped in the middle of the street with her head down. I was going to have to figure out which way I wanted to maneuver around her.

Then, as I got closer to her I heard a wail of grief rising from her. "Stop!" was the loud word bouncing around between my ears. Braking quickly near her, all I could think of was that this woman was in pain. But I couldn't see why. Was she mentally ill?

"What's the matter?" I asked, concerned.

She turned readily and faced me with her tears. "My cat was killed here," she said. "I'm feeling so awful about that." Then I noticed where she had been looking; there was a dark spot on the road. Oh my.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. When did it die?" I asked.

"Last Thursday night," she said. And it was like the floodgates were open. She told me that she was babysitting this dog for a neighbor. She told me her cat used to sleep at the foot of her aging mother's bed, and that her mother was feeling the loss of the cat. She told me how much she missed her cat. She said again how awful it was. All that in a quick torrent of words. And then she said, realizing that I was a complete stranger who had been on the way to somewhere, "Well, thank you for caring. I really appreciate it."

These are the poignant pictures that stick in my mind for a long time, the little vignettes where I see a complete stranger and enter the story of their life for a few moments, and realize the joys or deep sorrows of what it means to be human, to love and to lose. And sometimes it's so intense, it hurts.