This is where we can get some relief…

The rain was only temporary relief from the suffocating humidity of a mid July day. After smoking a bowl in the alleyway and exchanging greetings with a random aboriginal man, I made my way to a streetcar stop.

Strolling across the street, I came to encounter a silver haired woman pacing the south-west corner of Queen and Bathurst. At first glance, I dismissed her as crazy and homeless. But there was something different about her. Her presence was almost religious as she swept back and forth, her long skirt flowing and white and her blouse high necked and ghostly. She wore a silver chain around her neck with what looked to be a cross.

Something wasn’t right. Her face echoed pain and there was a confused sadness in her eyes. It was as if she were swept from her country bed and planted in the middle of a bustling metropolis. Her earthy sandals planted her shuffling feet to the ground. I was wondering what she was thinking. She was clean and dry, miraculous for anyone who has spent some time on the streets.

Did she notice me noticing her? I couldn’t tear my eyes from her restless form. The longer my eyes lingered, the greater my concern grew. She was somebody’s grandmother. Maybe she had Alzheimer’s. I couldn’t turn my back on her suffering eyes. She was everybody’s grandmother. She continued to pace, mumbling. Ignored by passerbys, I grew compelled to say something but my streetcar was approaching in the distance.

I turned my back. Took a step, and paused. I didn’t want to offend her, or make her angry… but I couldn’t walk away. To hell with custom and convention, I thought.

“Are you ok?” I asked, approaching slowly. With a smile as bright as sunshine and as rare as a rainbow she said, “I like to talk.” Her voice was startling. It was sparkling, innocent, and was that of a child’s. “I’m from Alberta or should I say the hospital state, now I’m in Toronto.” She trailed off into some indiscernible mumbling and continued to sway like a leaf caught in an updraft.

My thoughts raced and crashed, not allowing for sense to form. I stammered “Oh ok,” and looked confused. She looked into my eyes and said, “Thank you for caring.” Her response was clear and lucid and put my concern to rest. Holding her gaze, I said, “You’re welcome.”

I don’t know what it was that put a smile on my face and my mind at ease. I boarded the street car amidst a crowd of people trying to avoid the oncoming rain. Was she like many others, floating through the cityscape, searching for some kind of connection? Or was it I that was looking for that connection?

I looked back, she was still pacing, and it started to rain.

-Cara Chellew