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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Growing Up, Aging An aging golden retriever boards the bus, must have been 12 years old, eye sight waning, I see white film, with liver spots and walking with a deliberate cadence, as if all of it's four legs were uneven. I could see a curvature in the back and could imagine hearing a creaking sound matching the dog's grimace on it's face. Poor dog reminded me of mom. But in this case it was an elderly women wrapped in a blue sweater matching the color of her eyes. What struck me as odd is that she had orange colored manicures. She asked the bus driver, "Do you drop off at Walmart? Her voice booming. "Do you drop off at Walmart?" Immediately I could sense she was speaking loud so that she could hear her own questions. The bus driver was polite, "next stop, ma'am." She sits down, which took some effort. A gentleman in a brown shirt decides to move away from sitting next to her. She's offended. And yells at him to get back in his seat. He does. He was polite. The lady, then, grabs his shirt and touches his shirt to hers, proudly saying that they have matching shirts. Hers was green checkered and his was solid brown. He smiled. And I think many others on the bus, watching, perhaps it being an epiphany moment, smiled along with him. When her stop came she had built up a fan club, where everyone watching was holding their breath as she exited and maybe even silently applauding. But definitely feeling a little bit sad. connie pachecho 1/29/17
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