How many times have I seen them? I don’t know. The man––the woman’s son?––is perhaps in his fifties. Maybe she is in her seventies or eighties.
She is slender with a fashion sense that speaks to mine: she gets layering. Her getup hardly changes but the clothes alter: a simple, tasteful housecoat-like dress over a pair of loose slim pants, and long oversized cardigans when the weather calls for it. Her socks, sometimes festive, is at times neutral: last time they were peppered with red flowers in brown, well kept, comfortable slippers. Her headscarves are interestingly patterned if not plain colored. And around her neck, there is always a long strand of beads and a slim gold necklace with a small pendant.
I noticed her because of a particular cardigan she wore in the autumn and spring. I found myself wanting to befriend her and at some point in our friendship encouraging her to think her cardigan would find a good home with me. Of course, she wouldn’t have to leave it in my happy care while she’s still breathing. If I am breathing when she is not, I would have been more than elated to care for that fantastic masterpiece!
He––the son?–– often wears a casual black jacket, a white collar shirt and loose black pants. I am not sure I have ever seen him without a hat. This summer he’s been wearing neutral colored pants and plaid short-sleeve shirts. The other day, I saw him in black shorts that stopped at the knees––I nearly stopped walking in my surprise.
They have both started wearing caps this summer. Her’s, a purple-pink plaid; his, a green camouflage. The caps look like an afterthought, or a quick passing phase.
I have seen him reading to her, on the verandah overlooking our building’s enclosed park, as she sits reclined in a sleeping position. They are almost always on the verandah in the afternoons. But they walk a lot in the evenings: sometimes with his hands looped under her arm as though to prevent her from ever stumbling; sometimes he stays just a step or so behind her, and like her, with hands crossed behind his back.
Their aura signals mother and son. My mother, who has seen them several times, thinks the same.
How would she live without him, and he without her?
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Jane A. Odartey
