Ride UTA

27 January 2010

Tuesday was lovely. A deep fog curbed the icy crisp of gray snow that had been melting and freezing and melting and freezing for a week now. Daddy dropped me off on his way to the office, 5 blocks west of my regular bus stop. An older woman stood by the wet, grimy bench in gloves and a few scarves, her cargo pants tucked into short snow boots. I 'goodmorning'ed and she smiled quietly back.

'Pretty amazing this fog, huh?' I prodded her silence.

'Yes,' she nodded.

She looked the part of a quiet grandmother: gray hair and thick glasses that ought, in such a case, to be respectfully called 'spectacles.'

We waited and even our silence was muffled by the still, white fog that swallowed the world all around us.

Two canvas bags hung from her arm, and 'Teaching English to Spanish Speakers' was tucked haphazardly into the bag decorated with puff-paint daisies and a singing sun.

'Oh, do you teach Spanish?'

Stupid question, I know, but I have found the obvious questions to be poor conversation starters.

'No,' she smiled again, 'I teach English to Spanish-speaking parents of local students.'

I smiled, encouragingly.

'It's actually an amazing program, started by the Ford company...'

Now it was my turn to be quiet.