• Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar
  • Skip to footer
  • About
  • Contact
  • Blog
  • San Diego Momma
  • Nav Social Menu

    • Email
    • Facebook
    • Instagram
    • Pinterest
    • Twitter
San Diego Momma

San Diego Momma

Sharing some humor, a bit of writing and way too much information

Home / Etcetera / What It All Comes Down to in the End

What It All Comes Down to in the End

Etcetera

I parked my car in the usual haphazard fashion, bumping my horn as I scrambled out the driver’s side.
The man in front of me started, and shifted his reverie from the third floor window he’d been considering.

 

I mumbled “sorry” and began to hurry away, when something in his manner made me stop. I loitered a bit outside the parking meter, pretending to gather change. What was he doing, staring into that window?

 

He walked toward me, with his hands behind his back, as if out for a stroll. And maybe he was. What did I know?

 

I forgot my impending appointment for a moment while I braced myself. I wondered if I had a quarter in my pocket.

 

“My wife,” he pointed to the window, “my wife used to work up there, when it was a coat and dressmaker’s place.”

 

“Ah,” I nodded, grateful. “Ah, yes. I guess a lot has changed.” I looked around at the restored buildings splashed with bright paint and glued-on facades. “When was that?”

 

“A long time ago, a long time,” he paused.
“I used to bring her lunch.”

 

“That’s nice.” I think I knew where this was going. And I never come up with the good replies.

 

“Yes, right up there, she would sit. I could wave to her and she would see me,” he said it without smiling.

 

“Yes. Yes.” I tried to remember what the building looked like then.

 

“She died, you know. She just died.” He still stared at the window. “In December.”

 

“Oh no, oh, I’m so sorry.” Brilliant. “This December?” Well, of course it was.

 

“Yes, she worked right up there.” Now he looked at me. “I came to remember.”

 

“She was a seamstress?” I searched for something else to say.

 

His fuzzy brown eyes considered me, the window and the sidewalk before him.
“Yes.” He put his hands in his pockets. “I came to remember.”
“So…” With a shrug he began to walk away.

 

I barely watched him leave, instead I looked into the blackness of the window and imagined her there, smiling down at her husband holding two crumpled sack lunches. And now what’s left? Does the sidewalk hold the energy of her shoes tapping their way to work? Did the tree across the street retain the imprint of her gaze? Did she make her mark?

He came to remember.

 

“Thank you,” I called after him.

 

I never think of the good replies.

 

Share this:

  • Twitter
  • Facebook

March 6, 2008 · 7 Comments

Sure I’d love to see you again

Previous Post: « Something Haunted
Next Post: Good “Cook” Book »

Reader Interactions

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Comments

  1. Angela says

    March 6, 2008 at 2:05 pm

    Oh, this is beautiful. I’ve been thinking a lot about similar things lately…maybe it comes with my increasing age, I don’t know. Loss often puts me…at a loss.

    Reply
  2. mommypie says

    March 6, 2008 at 9:42 pm

    You KNOW I love this post. Especially the haunted part …

    After going through the loss of my daughter’s father, I could tell you seven ways to Sunday how gutwrenching the memories can be. But something about seeing the remaining partner of an elderly couple just always seems the saddest of all.

    Thanks for this :)

    Reply
  3. Cheri says

    March 6, 2008 at 10:10 pm

    What a special story. It seems so sad at first, but then I think of the love, energy, and spirit that man shared with his wife during her life, and how that love, energy, and spirit live on in his heart. They are still together, just not physically.

    Reply
  4. Steph says

    March 6, 2008 at 11:13 pm

    I’m such a sap. This made me just a little weepy. :*)

    Reply
  5. admin says

    March 7, 2008 at 8:02 am

    It makes me weepy every time I think about him standing there, looking up into the window…

    Oh man.

    I gotta go.

    Reply
  6. matteroffactmommy says

    March 7, 2008 at 2:53 pm

    oh man, i am SO with you! while strangers barely approach me/talk to me in public, i can never come up with the perfect response in these situations. you did a pretty good job! and what a touching little episode in your life. bet you’ll never forget it.

    Reply

Trackbacks

  1. San Diego Momma » Blog Archive » Me, Me, Me, Me, Me, Me ME! says:
    March 6, 2009 at 4:03 pm

    […] The One Where My Life Flashed Before My Eyes […]

    Reply

Primary Sidebar

I love words. Every one, every time. (Except “moist.” That word can go.) …read more

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • Twitter

Sure. I’d love to see you again.

Categories

Archives

Blogroll

  • Blog This Mom
  • Da Goddess
  • Dirt and Noise
  • Discover San Diego
  • Foolery
  • Juggling Life
  • Mama Mary Show
  • Mel, A Dramatic Mommy
  • Mom Zombie
  • Mommy’s Martini
  • Motherhood is Not for Wimps
San Diego Momma

Footer

Archives

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • Twitter

Categories

Christmas carols for dad... Through the nursing ho Christmas carols for dad...
Through the nursing home window...
❤️
Mama’s mid-century vibes and dad’s suit swagge Mama’s mid-century vibes and dad’s suit swagger...
Walked a 5K for Wounded Warriors last night and de Walked a 5K for Wounded Warriors last night and despite my phone being stolen right before this pic, I couldn’t deny there are still good things in the world like red sunsets. Even if thieves and bad people muck stuff up every now and again.
Well. One of us takes her time to carve things rig Well. One of us takes her time to carve things right....No. I don’t know what it is. (It was supposed to be Chucky but she carved the wrong parts.) (I still admire the attention to detail.)
#OneDayHH — 8:23PM — Felt like the right time #OneDayHH — 8:23PM —
Felt like the right time to try Schitt’s Creek again. I couldn’t get into it last I tried.
But non-football-watching wives of football watchers do as they must do. And they must do it alone.
#OneDayHH — 6PM — Early evening still life. #OneDayHH — 6PM — 
Early evening still life. 
Husband working/watching football.
Outdoor cushions sheltered from possible rain showers tonight.
Buddha watching over all.
#OneDayHH — 3:50PM — Pulled my old diary out y #OneDayHH — 3:50PM — Pulled my old diary out yesterday for a work something...
About to put it back and this earnestness catches my eye from adolescent Debbie...
😳
  • About
  • Contact
  • Privacy Policy

Copyright © 2021 · Hello Chicky

We use cookies on our website to give you the most relevant experience by remembering your preferences and repeat visits. By clicking “Accept”, you consent to the use of ALL the cookies.
Do not sell my personal information.
Cookie settingsACCEPT
Privacy & Cookies Policy

Privacy Overview

This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these cookies, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may have an effect on your browsing experience.
Necessary
Always Enabled

Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.

Non-necessary

Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.