Apart from my extended family, no one reading this blog knows about Ruth Harbo. Ruth was a lifelong friend of my mother's, one of those rare people you meet who seems put together in all kinds of ways. She was unfailingly pleasant and smiling, calm, subtly outgoing, and showed genuine interest in whoever she talked to. She was full of grace and engaged in life until she died last year when she was in her mid-90's.
I don't even know this woman's name, yet I consider her a friend. She goes to the exercise class in the park that I go to most mornings. Like Ruth, she's sweet and tiny on the verge of frail. She always smiles at me and greets me, and if I'm near her she'll take my hand and then hug me, a long lingering hug. She always lifts my spirits.
Today on the way home from the bank, I was standing on a street corner with some other pedestrians waiting for a green light. When I felt a hand on my arm, I turned and saw my friend, smiling away at me. She took my arm, and we crossed the street and walked down the the next block together, she squeezing my arm and chattering away in Cantonese. I didn't comprehend a word she said. She may or may not have understood me when I told her that she reminded me so much of my mother's friend. Halfway down the block, I took out my camera and asked to take her picture. When it was time for me to cross another street, I said goodbye. She watched me walk to my apartment door and waved to me. Then she pointed ahead and up with her cane, telling me that her apartment building is across the street from mine. How about that.
The next time I see her I'm going to have someone help me ask her name and write it down, so I can call her by her real name, instead of "you remind me of Ruth Harbo".
No comments:
Post a Comment