Transportation

As I walk toward the 71A today (which I'm taking because Corey will drive me home later after our night classes end), I pass the little church in my neighborhood. As usual, there is a funeral. Today, a man stands outside playing the bagpipes. Amazing Grace. The mourners pour from the church sobbing and weeping. I suspect the dead person must have been young or died unexpectedly. It makes me sad.

At the bus stop, there is an ancient lady. She reminds me of Straga Nona. She is hunched over one of those walkers with tennis balls as breaks. Her swollen legs are rotting and diseased, crusted in yellow lumps. She is talking in broken English to the other passengers at the stop, who read newspapers and shift uncomfortably away from her. When I get there, a man is passing with a little shitzu and she asks him if the dog bites. Of course the shitzu doesn't bite, but comes up and licks everyone. She pets him as he kisses her dying legs.

The woman nudges closer to me and tells me about being bitten by a dog in her youth, a lifetime of fear of dogs. She goes off on a tangent, telling me children are guardian angels. Do I have any children? She thinks they are God's blessing. She has raised five, each 14 months apart. Now she has 3 grandchildren. I somehow reveal that I just got married, though I generally wish she would stop talking to me. Suddenly, she is patting my back and telling me I'm a glowing bride. She hopes God will bless my womb with fertility. The bus arrives (not my bus but hers) and she hobbles inside screaming about God's blessings--the babies!!--and having everyone hope my husband and I will have many.