Some of the apartments are roaring with laughter, but hers is quiet. Only a few cars pass by. It is Sunday, and hardly anyone’s around, except for the woman sitting in the swing that I gave her for her birthday. She loves the big old swing that I had handcrafted especially for her. It brings her joy to sit out and swing her grandchildren, or just to sit and think.
Fair hair frames her face. I study that face, pale and withered these days. Her eyes are like signs of grief beneath the blond hair, and I am shocked at the change in Mrs. Willie, my mother. Not long ago she had been carefree, laughing with her friends, enjoying life. Everything was easy and fun once upon a time. But that was over now, life had changed for this lady.
As I watch her, I want to say, “Stand up straight,” “Hold your head up, don’t slump, you look so beaten and defeated by life.” But I do not have the heart to say these things, so I just sit back and observe. Her hands are pushed deep in her jacket pockets, fists clenched, as if she is so cold and tense. I wish she could relax and be happy, but she looks so miserable, totally heartbroken and completely beaten up by this thing we call life. It is plain to see that she just does not care anymore.
Once she cared about a great many things. It seems so long ago now, but in reality, it has only been two years since the sad-eyed woman loved life, cared about so many things, including her appearance. Her clothes were bright and trendy and her hair was shiny clean, her smile could brighten even the darkest of days. That was all before the man she loved walked out on her.
She wraps her arms around her body as if to comfort herself and I go on looking at her and remembering. I remember her man and how the two of them fell into each other’s arms at first sight of one another, holding hands, so much in love. It radiated from them. Her eyes danced with fun, then softened into tenderness whenever he was around, or looked to her with loving eyes.
