“How is your knee today?” The elderly man [whom I will name baba] asked him
“Better, it’s less painful.” Young replied cheerily
“Oh, you remembered. Thank you for asking” I said to baba as the minus-1-degree icy cold shook my body mercilessly.
“Yes, he was limping the other day and could barely walk” baba responded affably
Meanwhile, we were at the bus stop and it was dawn and still dark.
Yesterday, on a whim, I followed Young to the bus stop on his way to school. I got there to find out he was the only person there. And the bus was running late! I had not realised how dark it was outside by that time. And Young had not mentioned.
“Is this how you stand alone at the bus stop daily? Why did you not say something? I could have been coming out with you, you know?”
My paranoid head fired off all the questions at once. The Woolwich, London killing of a teenage boy on the bus earlier this week still messes with my head. The mother in me has been playing out how on earth someone was stabbed and died in a bus without any noise.
“No, there are usually other people here” he defended
“Oh yeah, so where are they now?”
“You keep forgetting that you are a child! I berated
“No, really there are other people here. Maybe they do not come out on Thursdays”
“How convenient” I muttered. I felt sad. Sad at how he had had to grow up over these past few years.
Therefore, this morning, I went again with him. In spite of his protestations.
Baba was there with another Senior male.
And as we approached, I greeted them. Then baba asked after his knees. And with that, the door for small talk opened
“I came out with him yesterday and there was no one here. Although he insisted that there were usually others at this Stop. Nevertheless, I came to stand with him until the bus gets here” I noted
“Oh, we do see him here and look out for him. He is a respectful young man” Baba asserted
“Alright then, I would leave him with you and head back home” I stated and turned to see the bus pulling up
Shuffling back home, I mused at the milk of kindness which flows through humanity’s red blood cells. In defiance of our skin colours.