Creative Non-Fiction Short Stories. :) Travel, Oldsters, Love, and Compassion.
A woman with a long, swinging skirt walks with two heaps of lettuce across her arm as though she’s carrying bouquets of flowers, like a runner-up beauty queen making off with the roses, at least. Though I am standing and waiting on a bus, I pull out my notebook to try and catch her on paper. As I write, a little girl with red-framed glasses holds her mother’s hand. The girl gazes over at me, pushing up her glasses on her nose. I also wore glasses at that age. Mom usually had me take mine off for photos, so I can’t prove the glasses, but I can remember them.
Their bus nears before mine, and the girl turns her full attention to my hastily moving pen once more. She stops, scrunches her face like someone at a class reunion, trying to place a possible neighbor from English class. She tucks her chin and follows her mother, but she turns quickly to meet my eyes, as I look up to the doors as they close. She seems unsure, and it seems to me that she is wondering whether she should wave to me as the bus rolls away. I raise my left hand with my pen as she goes. I hope she will write one day. It has been a joy for me so far.