An empty spot on the sidewalk

(Baonghean) - In the morning, the cold wind peels away layers of clothing, seeping into every pore. Every day at 5:30 a.m., I jog around the neighborhood. I've become familiar with everyone; I greet them softly or sometimes just nod. There's the rickshaw driver, the early morning fish vendor, the sticky rice seller, the eccentric old woman selling flowers and bananas… But today, why isn't that eccentric old woman here?

On that sidewalk, the eccentric old woman has sat every morning for so many years. A pair of carrying poles, a small red plastic basin containing a few roses or chrysanthemums, a small tarp with a few bunches of bananas and some vegetables. Every morning, it's the same.

They called her "crazy" or "eccentric" because she often laughed and talked to herself. Sometimes, idle people or those with petty interests would stop to chat with her. Once, I became one of them, buying her a rose, asking her some random questions, then going for a run, and quietly placing the rose in a slightly ajar window on the sidewalk in front of someone's house, before enough sunlight could penetrate inside.

The image is for illustrative purposes only.

The old woman had long since occupied the sidewalk at the entrance to this alley, ignoring whatever anyone said. Several times, the security guard at a nearby bank chased her away for scattering leaves, strings, and scraps of newspaper around. She'd leave for a few days and then return. The police occasionally came to clear the market; sometimes she'd quickly grab her meager basket of fruit, other times she wouldn't bother running, just standing there grinning, her teeth blackened and yellowed, full of holes.

The old woman said her whole family went around selling flowers, each person carrying a basket on their shoulder in a different street every morning. Her flowers were few, of poor quality, and expensive. If someone bought them, that was good; if they didn't buy or tried to haggle, she would curse them, cursing them with vulgar and venomous words, like she was possessed. One day, a woman from Hue was cursed at by her and could only stand there and cry…

Yet she patiently continued her meager stall until late at night. When there were no customers, the old woman would talk to herself. No one paid any attention to what she was saying. One midday, when she hadn't eaten anything, the rice vendor brought over a cold packet of sticky rice with peanuts and told her to eat it. The vendor didn't take any money, but the old woman insisted on paying, however little she could. On days when she hadn't sold anything, she would pay with a few bananas. Late at night, with the flowers still wilting, she would thrust a bunch of mixed flowers into the rice vendor's hand, telling her to take it home for her daughter.

There were also days when I came home late from work and saw her sitting in the rain wearing her hat. I greeted her, but she didn't say anything, so I knew business was slow that day. I teased her a little, and she flew into a rage, cursing like she was possessed. Other times, I teased her, but she didn't say anything, just sat there silently leaning against the lamppost like a wilted banana leaf.

This morning, I noticed the sidewalk at the entrance to the alley was empty of her. Maybe the security guard chased her away yesterday, or maybe she's sick, or maybe there's something going on at home?

She might be back selling her wares tomorrow, but I feel strangely uneasy. That eccentric old woman... the sidewalk feels so empty without her! On this cold winter morning, I wish she were sitting there with a few bouquets of flowers as vibrant as flames...

Thai Quynh