An image of a mother and child wrapped in each other’s arms passes my sight as I sit still in the coffee shop. Winter has hit hard this year approaching below the 40’s. I had made my way straight to the coffee shop after school to soak in the warmth before I journeyed back out to my house. I look over at my cup of coffee and wonder why I bought it. I brought my eyes up to the mother again to see the child wiggling slightly as she tried to catch a breath from her mother’s garment covering her face from the bitter weather. The mother was beautiful, and with a soothing glance her eyes met mine. Her glance quickly turned sharp and caustic as though she was a lioness looking onto vultures ready to feast on her cub. When she realized it was only me, her eyes relaxed returning a warm smile. She was out in the cold waiting for her bus with her child, and I couldn’t resist but think why she didn’t just come into the warmth. I drank my coffee with grimace; it had already turned cold due to my refrain from drinking it down immediately. I looked back out at her and smirked to myself about the thought of being out in the cold rather than coming inside the coffee shop. However, I couldn’t find myself to judge her more coarsely. She was captivating in every way. She was petite, with long straight jet black hair, large light blue eyes that could be made out from where I was sitting, and fine features. “Hopefully the child takes after the mother”, I thought to myself. I couldn’t stop but think why she didn’t do something better with her life, than standing out there waiting for the bus. “What a regular life for someone so beautiful” was the next thought that passed my mind as I subjected her to my derision. I didn’t realize that at this point her back was turned from me. I wondered if she knew I was talking about her or at least questioning her actions.
After a couple of minutes passed I forgot about her and went back to my unsatisfying coffee. I looked out the window again trying to avoid her gaze and find new people to subject to my harsh reprimands. I couldn’t find anyone more interesting than the mother; she stood out too much amongst the ordinary people passing life dully. With much regret I glanced over at her again but she was somewhere else in her mind. Her glance had parted from the rest of the world, from the reality of the cold, the long wait for the bus, even from by-passers that held her in esteem as I did. She was concentrated in the only thing that really mattered to her, the only thing that my derision could not tear away at. The way she looked at her child was so touching; as she was amazed at the life she held in her arms. I felt as though I was intruding in their moment, like a real outsider than I was originally. The child outreached her hand to touch her mother’s chin and stroked her long playful hair that hanged onto the mothers shoulders. The mother bestowed a comforting smile only a mother could give to her child, as though to say that “nothing in this life can tear me away from you. We will always have each other and nothing can take that away from us.” I wanted them to share their moment together without any of my thoughts invading their intimate bond. I walked out of the warm coffee shop, into the bitter cold winter, understanding why the mother didn’t mind the cold outside.
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4 comments:
Hey Maria -
I thought that your descriptions of everyday things were so startlingly vivid and real, like the coffee that the narrator is sipping on. The detail that you put into this woman makes me wonder, did this story happen in real life?
If your aim was to unite the narrator and the reader in wondering exactly what this beautiful woman was doing out in the cold waiting for a bus, then you succeeded. I found myself reading to see exactly what you were intending to do with the character. I also felt the uncomfortable feeling of intruding on a private moment, the way the narrator feels when he/she realizes that this woman is in her own world.
I'm curious as to the motivations behind this piece. What inspired you?
Definitely a story I could pass off as real. The frustration of the narrator for failing to understand the mother's actions are moving enough to get across the main point. It would almost seem like the author is filling its own well-being in very egocentric terms, until the perplexing behavior of the mother and a child brake away these prejudices and reveal other levels of well-being, despite seemingly harsh circumstances. Perhaps some sort of turning-point in the author's life?
Hey maria,
I loved how this story is so simple but says so much. We judge people everyday and i liked how you mentioned that you didn't want to intrude in their private moment just by the thoughts you were having. It's like we feel guilty at times judging others when they're probably happier than we are. I don't know if that makes sense but thats what I was thinking as I was reading this. This piece actually inspires me to write about how as we judge others we could easily turn around and see the person behind me judging me. I have the same question Arlene had, did this really happen?
wow this is a powerful poem that really does a fantastic job at showing a mother's love and it portrays it very well in a simple yet so pure way......it is such i simple poem but it can tell the world so much!!!
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