The lady and the crossing

She saw me as she approached the edge of the curb, raising her head slightly to check that I have slowed down. She steadied her self, took another glance then started her journey to the other side. She placed her walking stick on the first white stripe of the pedestrian crossing then shuffled her Eighty year old feet down the sloping curb stone, so her feet and walking stick were all on the same level. The wind is blowing her pale blue head scarf, releasing a couple of tufts of silver hair that keep passing in front of her eyes.

She is level with the dusty grey railings that ran parallel with the curb to protect the public from the traffic. Her last bus is waiting in the terminal, as it did every Wednesday at 2.30 in the afternoon. It is quite a busy afternoon. School children are enjoying their summer holiday heading for the town centre where the little old lady had come from.
She lifted her head another time followed by her walking stick, with her extended arm she pointed at my car. She had a sweet yet apologetic smile that said “I’m sorry but I think I will be here for a while”. I am in no hurry and I am more than pleased to allow her all the time she needed to reach the other side and catch her bus.

A middle aged man went speeding passed on a bicycle paying no regard to her age or her safety; he took her by surprise. Composing herself she gave me one more look, shrugged her shoulders and lowered her walking stick in front of her. Moving very slowly, she put one foot in front of the other, steadied her self and then did it again with the other foot. She wore tatty yellow plimsolls that had seen better days, and a long green trench coat that is stained on the cuffs, collar and hem. Her legs and ankles were so thin, her plimsolls looked too large. She reached the first black stripe and took a quick glance towards the waiting bus and then towards me.

I gestured to her that it is ok and gave her a reassuring smile, hoping that she doesn’t become embarrassed and try to rush. I felt anxious for her because I could feel her concern that she is holding up the traffic. The longer she paused, the more chance she had of missing her bus and become stranded in a busy town centre.

She lifted her stick once more and shuffled to the second white stripe. Without looking up she paused, steadied herself and started on her way again. I spotted in my rear view mirror that a car had pulled up behind me, as this is a single lane the car couldn’t pass until the lady crossed.
Discarded shopping bags, sweet wrappers, fast food bags and pages from a newspaper were being blown in a circle, like a mini cyclone, just feet from the old lady; I hoped that the shopping bag didn’t move any closer and get trapped around her feet.

She had made it half way across when a trio of youths walked towards her, in their arrogance they stopped, raised their arms out wide and gesture to the lady to move out of their way. She raised her stick in defiance, this journey has been tough enough so far; she is not prepared to prolong it for a bunch of disrespectful street kids. The tallest one dropped his shoulders, extended his arms towards her with open palms and told her to move, or else. Incensed, I sounded my horn and shook my head at them. My body language told them that I would leave my car to defend the lady if they continue their hostility towards her. The tall one formed his hand like a pistol and imitated shouting me; I continued my stare, not compromising my eye contact or the angry look on my face as they passed to the side of the lady and disappeared into the town.

There is a strong smell of curry drifting through the town; it is intermittent because the wind kept changing direction swiftly.

The lady continued on her way after giving me an appreciative smile hinting that she is proud of herself for standing her ground. The driver behind me pulled his car even closer to indicate his impatience. He is shaking his head and trying to catch my attention in the mirror, it is a useless attempt because I am going no where until this lady has caught her bus. I returned my attention to my new friend, keeping one eye on the impatient motorist up my rear.

She is three quarters of the way across placing one foot down in front of her and her placing her stick down for support. She steadies herself glancing at the bus then starts over again. I wondered how long it must take her to do her daily chores, or whether she lives in a residential home where her domestic needs are catered for by care staff. I hoped it is the latter because this must be so frustrating for her, and embarrassing; old people become embarrassed when they think they are a burden to others.

A distant cloud breaks exposing the heat from the sun. Instantly the right side of my face and my right forearm feel the heat as the sun intensified through my car window. The old lady slowly lifts her head to see where the sun is coming from then slowly lowers it; she takes another look at the waiting bus and continues on her way.
I can see the man in the car behind me becoming agitated. He holds his hands out above his steering wheel, with palms up; his gesture is clear. I know instinctively that he is cussing the old lady for taking such a long time to cross. I bet that he thinks she is doing it on purpose, just because she can.

The clouds close up again and the temperature is now comfortable. As she starts her journey again a sudden unexpected gust of wind blasts across the street catching her by surprise. She is pushed backwards losing her balance and sending her into a slight spin, she slams her walking stick to the ground like an anchor and regains her composure. I rose up in my seat swiftly and reached out my arms as if to catch her. My heart increased in speed and velocity as it also tried to leap out to help her. She gave me a cheeky smile before looking towards the bus willing it not to move off.

The driver behind me is so impatient he tried to reverse back to give him a way out, there is a bus blocking his path so he is stranded; as we all are. I understood the driver’s anxiety because I have been in that situation myself on occasions. Today, however, I am in no rush and to the little old ladies advantage; I am in the front of the queue.

She had one black stripe and one white strip left before she left the pedestrian crossing and we could all be on our way. The hem at the back of her coat is ripped and exposed strips of material from inside. The exposed cloth is trailing on the floor behind her, it is barely noticeable but still, it is enough to trip her if she stepped backwards. I prayed we had no more gusts of wind that could force her back into those potentially fatal strands.

Although I could easily pass and allow the traffic to resume momentum, I chose to stick with it and see this journey through. The driver behind me sounded his horn in frustration hoping I would break the Highway Code; I am not fazed by his demands nor is the lady.
She shuffled forward with determination, her ride home waiting stationary under the glass arched shelter. The driver still had his news paper on his steering wheel and his arms resting on the outer edge of the wheel with his hands clasped; this is an indication that he is not ready to move off yet. My little friend still had time to jump on board but I think she needs to focus on achieving those last two stripes and reaching the curb. One little yellow plimsoll touched the edge of the dropped curb followed by the second, her walking stick hit the ground and she steadied herself.

There is a gentle upwards slope before she is on flat ground. I knew I had to move on before the drive behind me is prosecuted for road rage. Luckily a mother and toddler stepped onto the crossing allowing me enough time to see that the old ladt had reached the summit and is safe. She turned her head, raised her right arm and extended it towards me. She smiled and gave me a little wave. I waved back. I wish I could jump out of my car and give her big hug and tell her how proud of her I am. She gave it all she could; it was like an epic journey, an adventure to reach a bus to take her home. I only wish I could have seen her climb aboard that bus and take that well earned rest on her journey home.