5/14/09
A couple months ago, walking through the tunnel that connects the subway at Port Authority to the subway at Times Square, I saw a slender elderly Chinese woman sitting against the wall with a paper cup in front of her. I pulled out a dollar bill and stopped to give it to her. She gave me a beautiful smile and as I touched her hand I was struck by how soft her skin was, a faint memory of touching my mother’s hand. I’ve been so moved by her smile and sweet motherly presence that I’ve started leaving her $5, $10, and sometimes $20 when I come through. Sometimes I see her two or three days in a row. Sometimes I don’t see her for a week or so, depending on when I’m booked for a gig downtown. But I look forward to our few moments together. She takes my hand, looks directly into my eyes, and she thanks me. She often puts my hand against her soft cheek and tells me how lucky she is. I’m calling her “mother” now. It’s hard seeing her begging in the subway but those few seconds of intimacy with her are a high point of my day.
Today when I approached her she gave me her usual sweet smile, pulled me down and said “wait” while she rummaged around in her bags. After a few moments she pulled out a small white paper bag. She had a gift for me and presented it to me with both hands, and then watched with happy anticipation while I opened it. Inside I found a handful of wrapped chocolates and a small bag of mixed nuts. I did as much of a happy dance as I could while sitting on my haunches in front of her as we shared a blissful moment of friendship and intimacy. Sometimes you get particularly lucky in life. This was one of those days for me.
12/28/23
I just reread this post and I nearly wept. I miss her eyes. I miss her hands. I miss her mother’s smile as I miss my blood mother’s eyes, touch and smile. I deeply miss my dear Chinese mother.