Bridging the Gap
by April Terry (http://faithwarming.blogspot.com)
It was a Friday morning several years ago, and I was leaving for the weekend to go to the airport and fly to Washington, DC, for a wedding. I planned on dropping my then nine-year-old son off at my parents’ house and that is why, at 7:30 am that morning, we stepped out into the sunshine of the morning air. Our moods were light, mine because I was nervous about my trip, his because he loved staying with his Grandma and Grandpa and had already spent four of his five days that week with them since school had been out that week.
Just as we stepped out into the light, my son’s exuberance overflowed from within him in the form of a long and fairly loud note in about the key of A or A flat. Before I could shush him as I normally would, I heard laughter erupt from across the street and I saw two women there, openly appreciating the impulsiveness of a young boy.
I had seen these women before. One was elderly and one younger. They both walked the neighborhood in which I live going through garbage cans to pick up the recyclables. Usually, people such as these two are homeless, but in this case, I didn’t know for sure if there were. For one thing, they were on the wrong side of town where most of the homeless reside, but they weren’t particularly poorly dressed and seemed quite cheerful doing what they were doing. I wondered if maybe they were just down on their luck.
“I guess someone’s in a good mood,” I laughed out loud as I approached my car and started to load my baggage into my van. Those words seemed to become the catalyst for them to feel comfortable enough to come over.
The younger woman laughed again, then both women moved to our side of the street and came forward and greeted me. They wore thick garden gloves and aprons over their shorts and t-shirts. Their eyes were kind and I felt no trepidation in speaking briefly with them.
“Do you mind if we go through your recycle and see if there is anything there we can take?” the younger of the two asked me. I invited her to help herself. She looked inside and nothing was there, but she thanked me all the same. Then, she pulled off her dirty glove and stretched forth a hand, offering it to me along with a friendly smile. “I’m Rochelle,” she said.
I took her hand and shook it firmly. “I’ve seen you around this area,” I mentioned, “so, it is nice to meet you, Rochelle.” My eyes then turned then to the elderly woman next to Rochelle, and I stretched forth my hand to her as well. Rochelle gave me the name of her friend which I have now forgotten, but the older woman remained mostly silent. I wondered at first if she could speak and then she did. Her arms were filled with recycled goods, and she apologized that she couldn’t take my hand, so I stepped forward and patted her arm instead, feeling as though that would somehow bridge the gap between us.
