PASSAGE TWO
(1)Therewas something in the elderly woman's behavior that caught my eye. Although slowgestures, and unsure of step the woman moved with deliberation, and there wasno hesitation in her gestures. She was as good as anyone else, her movementssuggested. And she had a job to do.
(2)It was a few years ago, and I had taken a part-time holiday-season job in avideo store at the local shopping mall. From inside the store, I'd begun to seethe people rushing by outside in the mall's concourse as a river of humanity.
(3)The elderly woman had walked into the store along with a younger woman whoguessed was her daughter. The daughter was displaying a serious case ofimpatience, rolling her eyes, huffing and sighing, checking her watch every fewseconds. If she had possessed a leash, her mother would have been fastened toit as a means of tugging her along to keep step with the rush of othershoppers.
(4)The older woman detached from the younger one and began to tick through theDVDs on the nearest shelf. After the slightest hesitation, I walked over andasked if I could help her find something. The woman smiled up at me and showedme a title scrawled on a crumpled piece of paper. The title was unusual and abit obscure. Clearly a person looking for it knew a Little about movies, aboutquality.
(5)Rather than rushing off to locate the DVD for the woman, I asked her to walkwith me so I could show her where she could find it. Looking back, I think Iwanted to enjoy her company for a moment. Something about her deliberatemovements reminded me of my own mother, who'd passed away the previousChristmas.
(6)As we walked along the back of the store, I narrated its floor plan: oldtelevision shows, action movies, cartoons, science fiction. The woman seemedglad of the unrushed company and casual conversation.
(7)We found the movie, and I complimented her on her choice. She smiled and toldme it was one she'd enjoyed when she was her son's age and that she hoped hewould enjoy it as much as she had. Maybe, she said with a hint of wistfulnesshe could enjoy it with his own young children. Then, reluctantly, I had toreturn the elderly woman to her keeper, who was still tapping her foot at thefront of the store.
(8)I escorted the older woman to the queue at the cash register and then steppedback and lingered near the younger woman. When the older woman's turn in linecame, she paid in cash, counting out the dollars and coins with the samesureness she’d displayed earlier.
(9)As the cashier tucked the DVD into a plastic bag. I walked over to the youngerwoman.
(10)“Is that your mom?” I asked.
(11)I halfway expected her to tell me it was none of my business. But possiblybelieving me to be tolerant of her impatience, she rolled her eyes and said,“Yeah.” There was exasperation in her reply, half sigh and half groan.
(12)Still watching the mother, I said, “Mind some advice?”
(13)“Sure,”said the daughter.
(14)I smiled to show her I wasn't criticizing." Cherish her,” I said. And thenI answered her curious expression by saying, "When she's gone, it's thelittle moments that’ll come back to you. Moments like this. I know.”
(15)It was true. I missed my mom still and remembered with melancholy clarity the momentswhen I'd used my impatience to make her life miserable.
(16)The elderly woman moved with her deliberate slowness back to her daughter'scustody. Together they made their way toward the store's exit. They stood therefor a moment, side by side, watching the rush of the holiday current and fortheir place in it. Then the daughter glanced over and momentarily regarded hermother. And slowly, almost reluctantly, she placed her arm with apparentlyunaccustomed affection around her mother's shoulders and gently guided her backinto the crowds.
