She was old and grey, her skin all wrinkled and she walked with a speed that of a turtle. Her eyes were heavy with dark circles below them like as if someone had dug up two holes on her face. Her lips were dry with the silence of her pain and agony. A silence, which was kept from a very long time. The pain she was having was not a physical one but rather one which tortured her mind and soul. He knees ached as she walked but she didn’t care because what she had lost was too valuable to cry for anything else.
As she stood on the footpath, before her, the cars were passing by very swiftly and people around were engrossed in their own daily tasks. With a stick in her hand she slowly stepped down the footpath and started to walk towards the other side of the road. Fortunately the cars were now at a halt over the red signal light. With a lot of effort she had finally reached the other side of the road. It was a little after twelve and the shops were all busy with customers entering and leaving. With short and slow steps, the old lady entered a fruit shop. Her eyes sparkled as soon as they were laid on the luscious red strawberries. Instead of purchasing the strawberries she stepped out and walked straight towards a tall building. The strawberries had reminded her of her earlier life with her husband and child. Her husband would always get her strawberries on weekends so she would get the pleasure of popping one strawberry after another while they spent the night watching their favourite TV shows.
As she reached the tall building she took out a small piece of paper which was folded neatly into four. Unfolding the paper she looked around for some assistance. A young passerby noticed her and asked if she needed any help. She instantly revealed him the paper so he could have a better look at its contents. After studying it for a few seconds he gave her instructions while directing her with his hands. The old lady smiled in return and then continued with her mysterious journey.
She kept walking until the end of the footpath, on seeing a yellow cab passing by, she signaled it to stop. The cab stopped right away. She peered into the driver’s window and showed him the paper. After they exchanged a short conversation she opened an old satchel bag hanging on her shoulders and looked inside. She then indicated the cab driver to leave refusing to be his passenger. It seemed like she was short of money and had decided to continue going on her foot.
She kept walking towards her destination, stopping every little while to recall the directions the boy had explained to her. Around her, people kept looking at here making her feel nervous. They were probably eyeing her appearance. The worn out loose dress she was wearing, her grey and white hair messy as if they had not being combed for several days, her boots, dirty and torn, displaying her unwashed white socks.
Her journey finally came to an end when she reached a small bungalow on a deserted street. With trembling fingers she rang the bell and anticipated for someone to open the door. A pleasant and young woman appeared from inside to receive her.
With a warm smile she asked, “Yes? Your name?”
“Who left you?” with a gentle touch the young girl brought the old lady inside the house.
“My……son,” tears which were held from so long were now streaming down her cheeks.
Behind her the girl shut the bungalow’s iron gate and there on top was a small board which read, ‘Old People’s Home.’