Books

Books: 

every morning I see her, or just about I believe, she's an older woman and I would be hesitant to guess her exact age, but well past retirement it would seem. I see her while I'm out on my morning run or walk, down by the pond, and she almost always has a book in her hand, reading at bench, or carry it on her walk home. I always try and imagine what type of book it might be, loving the thought that it must be so engaging that she carries it with her wherever she goes, catching odd moments of reading time as she's able. My own mother, long past the point where Alzheimer's stole her reading mind, still carried a book from habit, as if her hands still knew the feel for reading, remembering a lifelong love of reading and teaching and the mere touch of a familiar book would help ease her fractured mind. 

we've never talked, the older woman and I, although I do sometimes offer her a smile which she sometimes shyly returns.  It's not that my running takes priority of friendliness and conversation, I often stop to talk to neighbors, a brief hello, or a moment to say hi and pet their dog. My priorities always include a friendly dog. But it's different with this woman, there's a bridge of conversation that won't be crossed and I have gently tried on some occasions. She's never been mean, no real rebuff, just remote and uninterested in any interaction aside from our occasional smile. 

and that's enough for both of us it seems. 

I like to think that we have books in common, maybe not certain ones, or a similar genre, but a deep love for the ones that strike us, our imagination captured by their magic flow of language, stories, and curios information. Perhaps a shared love of nature as well, ducks in particular, as I sometimes see her watching them intently, no, more mindfully really, a wordless conversation with friends whom she clearly cherishes. Of course much of this could be my imagination, she could be far away in thought and the ducks barely register in her mind, maybe, but not surprisingly I prefer my version, it deepens the quality of our own wordless conversation. 

we share of love of books and nature, ducks in particular. 

and sometimes we exchange a rare smile. 

some morning, someday, and there's no telling when exactly, she won't be there, and it might not even register for a time, my mind lost in it's own activity of running or walking and not noticing something so familiar is now gone. It happens that way, sometimes, hitting after several days of the subconscious mind finding something missing, a long established routine slightly altered, just enough that at first it escapes our notice. I don't know why it happens this way, a trick of the mind maybe, or a means of dealing with the loss of something long established as routine. It's always sad to remember that it's been a length of days since you've last seen a certain person, even one that's not part of an inner circle of friends or daily conversation. My relationship with her, in our own way, is just as deep as it with family members and close friends, we've exchanged certain ideas about each other, sharing thoughts behind our brief and slight smiles as we're passing. In someway's it might be even deeper, that it's not based upon anything but our brief daily exchange, a small acknowledgement of care and curiosity about the other's existence, an appreciation that we're both familiar to each other, a long established routine in the briefness of a smile. 

and even as I vow to be more mindful of her presence, to note the exact day that she's no longer here, a fixture of my morning run, of my life really, it might not happen that way. Sadly, day's might slip by before it's noticed that she's gone. I hope not, my vow should be strong, but the pull of daily life is so often stronger, attention goes to the details of my own concerns, my mind wandering as I run, appreciating my surroundings, nature, ducks, and maybe thinking of a certain book I'm reading. It might be then that I suddenly remember, that it's been quiet some days since I last saw my long time friend. It happens that way, sometimes, but I hope it will be different. Today, I'm pretty sure I'll see her, and my smile will be soul deep in appreciation of her presence. I will think of every book she's ever carried to read here, sitting by the pond, glancing up to wordless greet the ducks that paddle by. My smile will say that I love you, even if I don't know you're story, or anything about you really - but we have a love of books in common, and ducks too, and years if exchanging a small, brief smile between us. 

~

Peace, Eric