Outside the door of our house, just in front of the mailbox, an old woman always stops by and looks at me playing piano from the window.
I can’t deny I feel scared every time I perceive her looks right onto my skin.
Mom and dad said I should just ignore her, that she’s a poor child-less woman who’s always wanted to have a nice girl like me as a daughter. So she looks at me. And quite so intensely too. I feel bad for her.
This morning I had no school, so I sat at my computer desk working on my drupal uk tutorials—yes, I’m trying to learn how to use drupal too!—and she was there, before our mailbox. She had a smile on her face and seldom looked back at me when she felt observed… because I looked at her too, you know… sometimes.
Somehow, I felt like being watched over by a grandma. It was a reassuring presence, a warm sensation. Yes, I couldn’t help but feeling concerned and scared at first, but she proved herself to be only a poor old woman who lives such a lonely existence. Aww, I SO would like to run to her and call her “grammy dear!” like I do to my real grandmothers. After all, what would be wrong about that? Everybody deserves the love of a family in their life.
If she comes “on visit” again tomorrow, I will grab my sketchpad and a tray of sweet treats and warm lemon tea, bring everything outside and offer my company to the old woman. I know my mom will be home watching over me, but I feel safe enough to take this step and get to know that woman. I’m curious about her name, whether she really has nobody to love her, etc. I want to get to know her.
I feel that’s the reason why we were born, all of us; to be there for each other. I want to do my part too.