Laundry Lady: I don’t know what I’m going to do after work.
Me: Oh? Why?
Laundry Lady: It’s my birthday.
Me: Happy Birthday!!! I wish you had told me last week.
And I do. I would have brought her a card and flowers. She’s just so sweet that I still might have to. I can run by the shop after laundry and come back.
Laundry Lady: Well …
And a smile played across her face.
Me: I’m glad you were born.
Laundry Lady: Thank you
It’s almost like a little reunion here today … Guess who else had a birthday, 81st to be exact?
Glaucoma Man. He’s back.
And in true Glaucoma Man fashion, as soon as I started typing he stopped by to chat. His timing has always been impeccable.
He’s excited about a new trailer his sister bought him. One with an awning and, I quote: “I could even take a bubble bath if I wanted to, it has a tub!”
Me: Oh that’s exciting!
Glaucoma Man: My one now doesn’t even have a shower … I’ve been living like a bum.
I didn’t know that.
I assume the park that houses the trailers must have a communal bathing area though, because he’s always well-kept.
It’s grey and drizzling outside – perfect for a lazy Sunday, but I’m sure as Laundry Lady looks out the window as she’s stuck at work on her birthday the grey might elicit a different feeling.
And for Glaucoma Man, while he doesn’t have a lazy Sunday ahead, I’m sure he’s grateful for the break in the heat so he can work on trying to start and move his 25 year old home that’s currently sporting a near flat tire.
I wonder also what the man to my right is thinking. He’s sat facing a washing machine and lost in thought.
Another man paces without a smile on his face. Another white-haired man is stood guarding his wash.
And I sit and see them all – and wish I knew what was going through their minds.
I’m lucky some of them feel they can open up and share with me. Because, really, I am a good ear and so very curious about people.
And what is it they think of me? I’m the girl in the corner typing. The girl with a faint smile on my lips as I anticipate my upcoming trip to the coast.
The girl who doesn’t speak much, but who is thinking of flowers and returning, of my old friend getting an awning and a tub.