17 March 2011

I was taking the train home when a tripped-out looking aboriginal woman got on pushing a baby carriage. She had buggy eyes, crazy blue, she was poor, the baby carriage and blankets were so new they looked unwashed. She moved next to me and I could see her baby, an infant, had a scrape across her nose and a black eye, its purple matching perfectly her hand knit sweater. Her hand was steady as she smoothed the baby's brow. After a bit I tried to ask the baby's name; the woman's head rolled like she had fallen asleep. When her eyes opened I asked again and she told me, the baby's eyes opening as she spoke. Her eye was bloodshot, swollen shut. I said she was beautiful and the woman shrugged, I tried to make the baby smile and she just looked at me. The woman leaned in and made a face and the baby laughed. "She smiles for you," I said, and the woman moved to help me get off the crowded train.

3 comments:

thesundaygap said...

Heartbreaking, and beautiful.

Boris Kane said...

me-lan-cho-ly

wrenna said...

I knew she had a story. Thank you for appreciating it.

Right now in school I am studying how missionaries used supposed kindness and civilization to break families up, the damage done is still playing out and I really have no words for it.