Lonely people

I graduated from physical therapy yesterday. Not that my back pain is all gone but it’s better, and I can do most of the exercises at home to keep it that way. I was sad to say goodbye to Andrea and Shannon, my therapists, and just as much to Alvarado Hospital’s rehabilitation wing. Several years ago, I took my former sister-in-law to Alvarado three times a week after her brain injury. Andrea and Shannon were Rhonda’s therapists too. When I showed up for my first appointment, they remembered me and were thrilled to hear how well Rhonda is doing now–she doesn’t even use a cane any more.

Alvarado just feels like home to me. Part of the reason for that is that it’s so close to home, no more than a mile when you take the shortcut down the hill. I went to their emergency room when I had that nasty staph infection in my knee several months ago [and I still hear from them every month in sweet little collection notices--so kind!]

Now, the trolley has finally been built all the way to Grossmont Center and Alvarado Hospital has its very own stop. How convenient! I’d been taking the trolley lately instead of driving because I loaned my car to some friends so the husband can work while they sort out their transportation problems. It’s a short, pleasant ride. In yesterday’s cool, misty weather, I even enjoyed sitting on the bench you see here, reading a magazine, waiting for the #1 bus to take me the rest of the way home.

[Photo by Nathan Gibbs, a wonderful photographer from La Mesa, not far from where I live.]

I looked up for the bus and saw a woman walking my way. She looked to be about 35 and was neatly dressed in black pants and a black sweater with a white shirt underneath. Her hair was attractively cut in a short bob. I noticed she wasn’t carrying a purse. Maybe she was out for a walk.

“Do you mind if I sit here,” she asked, indicating the space next to me.

“No,” I said. “Go ahead.” I went back to my magazine.

After a few moments, she mentioned the weather. “It’s nice and cool today.”

“Yes, thank God,” I replied. “The heat was really getting to me.” I went back to the article about the new, healthy soul food.

“The trolley’s coming,” said the woman said after a minute or two.

“Oh, I’m waiting for the bus,” I said, looking up. “I’m just sitting here under the canopy because the bus bench over there is wet from the mist.”

The trolley stopped, but the woman made no move toward it. I tried to find my place again in the article. There was a picture of mashed sweet potatoes and lentil cakes that looked delicious.

“I’m trying to decide if I like my haircut,” she said. It was clear that she wanted to make conversation, so I gave up reading.

“I think it’s very nice,” I said.

“Do you? I just had it all cut off.”

“Yes, I like it very much.” That was the truth.

“It used to be down to here.” She motioned below her shoulders.

“Where did you get it cut?” I asked.

My bus rolled into the station. The woman started to tell me the exact location of the salon, far from here, and I interrupted her as I got up to go.

“Well, I won’t be going that far, but thanks.”

“Bye,” she said. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Yes, you too.”

“See you later,” she called after me as though we were friends.

I waited for an older black woman in nurse’s scrubs to debark the bus, and got on. As I chose my seat, I looked out the window and saw that my benchmate was no longer there. She must have sat next to me just to talk, I thought. Then I saw her sitting on another bench with the black woman. As my bus pulled away, I wondered if she goes to the trolley station often, just for the company.