Ms. Moore

I first saw Ms. Moore last week on my bus.  She looked sharply dressed wearing a pale green suit, white dress shoes and a green and blue headband to match her suit.  Her purse was also white and sat beside her cane.  Her skin was dark and her spine was slightly curved.   She had a smile on her face for anyone who met her gaze.  She seemed kind, gentle and grandmotherly.  I admired her spirit and thought I hope I dress that sharp at her age and give off vibes of kindness.  My bus stop approached and I exited, walking past her and leaving any thoughts of her on the bus.

Today was different.  Today I met Ms. Moore.

I saw her again this morning, in a baby blue suit and white beret.  She was (again) on the bus before me and I could see her a few seats in front of me.  She smiled at the oncoming passengers and the baby dozing beside her. I sat there and watched her and thought that if I were closer I'd talk to her.  But when my stop came, I exited without a word.

It wasn't until I saw her again at the bus stop this evening, however, that I felt led to introduce myself.  It was 9:30 and dark.  She walked slowly up the hill to our stop, leaning on the bus sign when she stopped.  She was wearing the same outfit as I'd seen on her this morning and I thought she's had a long day.  I almost didn't say anything to her, but then realized I was being ridiculous.  She's right here.  You wanted to talk to her earlier- now's your chance.  So, I walked up to her, introduced myself and complimented her attire.

I didn't know those words would be the first that we'd share for the next 1.5 hours.

Ms. Moore is 80 (as of April 2nd) and has lived longer than anyone in her immediate family.  She told me this with a grin on her face as she clapped her hands together.  When we got on the bus, I noticed that her eyes were a little lighter blue than her suit.  She's the only one in her family with blue eyes and blames someone "messing in her cabbage patch", which I translated as a white ancestor in the mix along the way through history.  "I have the darkest skin in my family and the lightest eyes.  It doesn't matter though.  One day, we'll all be the same race. In the Kingdom.  One day it won't matter."  I nodded.

She'd been at the hospital all day while her doctors examined her heart.  All she'd had was some cranberry juice and graham crackers.  "Denny's has the best salads.  I've been thinking about one all day.  They are SO good.  Fresh.  They have delicious tomatoes and onions.  Crisp yellow peppers too."  Her sparkling blue eyes were in another place... at a booth at Denny's with a fried chicken salad in front of her.

When I learned that she'd be waiting for a connecting bus to take her home after a full day at a stale hospital, I knew that wouldn't do.  This lady needed some Denny's!  Call me crazy, but I told her I'd drive her there.

And I did.

Our bus dropped us off, we slowly walked the three blocks to my house (she wouldn't wait at the stop though I offered to come get her) and got in my car shortly after ten p.m.  Crazy, right?

Anyway, I learned about her grandchildren, the "mother-in-law from hell" that she had for three years, about her "baby sister" who is a survivor of skin cancer and her church, the first black Lutheran church in DC, which was established by her mother who didn't want to christen her baby (Ms. Moore) in the YWCA where they used to meet.  We chatted about Denny's, the waiters and waitresses there who have come to know her and bring stuff by her house.  More about her great-granddaughter who looks like a little doll.  She told me about "friends and family" day at her church and said she wanted me to come.

She asked me my name again.  "I'm related to some Duncans.  They intermarried with the Fergusons."  She said this like I knew the Fergusons as well.  I nodded.  Maybe one of my distant relatives messed in her family's cabbage patch?  Maybe we were even related.

After Denny's, I had to stop for some gas on the way to my new friend's house.  A homeless man approached me and asked to pump my gas for cash.  I handed him some cash, dismissed his offer and he walked away.  I turned back around and saw that Ms. Moore was standing on her side of the car.  She was looking in the direction that he had gone.

"I was going to hit him on his head with my cane if he tried anything," she said solemnly as she met my gaze.

I smiled with raised eyebrows. "You were going to protect me?"

"I'm not really much of a fighter.  I prefer to negotiate.  But sometimes you have to fight.  I was ready."  I looked at her face and saw her determination.  She could probably mess the wrong person up with her cane!

I dropped her off at her house and made my way home, feeling blessed by her company.  We exchanged numbers and she insisted I call when I got home to let her know I'd made it safely (which I did!).

"I want you to meet my grandchildren," she said.  "I'm going to call you for friends and family day."

I hope she does.