Observations of a person, on interactions with others, translated…
Every day as I rode the bus across the bank at the intersection of Beida Road and Kai-Shek Road, I’d gotten so used to seeing if the elderly woman who sold porridge was there or not.
At age seventy something she is very optimistic, would come to set up her stand early mornings from Monday to Friday, no matter what the porridge has, ribs, or multigrain, a huge bowl only cost $30 N.T.s. “I’m only making enough for my own spending.”, she’d replied, as I asked her why she’d sold her items at such a cheap price. But, I think, that she didn’t just earn those measly cash, but, bundles and bundles of friendships as well.
For this freshly cooked, hot bowl of porridge, some came all the way from Hsianshan, and, I would see the volunteer traffic police officers, when they’re off duty, leaning toward the wall by the porridge stand, against the strong winds in Hsinchu, scooping the porridge into his mouth, carrying on in conversation the elderly woman. And I, a hard working member of the working class, would stop and buy a bowl of brown rice porridge, just so she could talk to me about her days, heard her telling me, to put on warm clothes, to dress more warmly, to ride my motorcycle slower. I’d never known her last name, she doesn’t known what I’m called either, but, this sort of interaction, gave me that feeling that I was cherished by her.
About a month ago when I’d gone to get my porridge, the grandma told, that her daughter mentioned it so many times, that she couldn’t possibly earn all that much money from having her porridge stand, that she should just put it up. She couldn’t persuade her daughter, so, she’d told her, that after she’d sold all of her food items completely, then, she’ll quit. A few days after she’d told her daughter this, there was a construction for the water sewage systems around the bank, the roads were blocked, and so, grandma can only take her temporary break.
One day, as I was on my way to work, I’d turned on Performance Road, seeing grandma far off, with her arms behind her, gazing toward the place where she’d normally set up shop. I’m guessing, that she’s probably searching for her long-time customers, fearing, that they won’t find her anymore. She wanted to tell the long-time customers, just wait awhile, after the constructions are done, I’ll be back again.
But, that, was the last time I saw Grandma Porridge.
One day on my way to work, I’d gotten used to lifting my head toward the place where Grandma Porridge had set up shop, the road had been flattened, and I was so happy that I was about to see Grandma Porridge again, but, at the moment I’d turned the corner, I saw her daughter, hung up the white clothes, and the floral from the funeral home…I felt my chest spasm, although I understood what had happened, but, I just found it hard, to accept it as a fact.
The wonderful time she’d given to us all, nothing more than a hot bowl of porridge that costs $30 N.T.s, and, her cares and concerns for her customers. And still, this sort of simple care and concern for people, is slowly, disappearing, into this fast moving world we live in.
And so, this, is the thought that stems from losing someone one interacts with daily, and, this elderly woman set up her shop, not for the sake of making money, but for the sake of her care and concern for those who’d come to buy the porridge from her, and, it’s with her kind and caring, and concerning ways, that she’d managed, to touched all of her customers.
Life, the Obstacle Course 