The Story of the Lady at the Bus Stop

"Okay, have a good day!"

I left my sobbing daughter at daycare, turned my back on the smiling teacher, and hurried off to work.

At the time, I would take a bus from a stop two minutes away from the daycare to get to my office. "She was crying again today, I wonder if she's okay," I thought vaguely, while entering what she had for breakfast and a comment into the daycare's contact app.

Lately, I had been agonizing over what to do about my daughter, who would sob whenever it was time to be dropped off. Hearing my own child cry from the morning was pure agony.

While I was lost in thought, I saw the bus approaching. The people waiting ahead of me didn't seem to be getting on, so I gave a slight nod and climbed the bus steps. Time to switch gears and get to work.

"Hey! Are you taking that bus today?"

Just as I was about to tap my commuter pass, I heard a voice from behind me.

"That's not the bus you usually take, is it?"

I hurriedly checked the bus's destination sign and realized it was a different bus than usual.

I rushed off the bus, and the elderly woman who had called out to me was smiling, her eyes, which were peeking out from above her mask, crinkled like crescent moons.

"You're always on the same bus, so I just couldn't help but call out to you. Sorry! But I'm glad I did!" she said, laughing heartily.

That was my first encounter with the lady at the bus stop. Apparently, she had been watching me every day as I dropped my daughter off at daycare and hurried over.

"You're doing a great job every morning. You're amazing," she said, placing a black sugar candy in my palm. We rode the bus together, chatting about trivial things, and she got off at the stop near her workplace before I did.

From then on, whenever we saw each other, we would talk about her work, or how I couldn't go to the office because my child was sick, and many other things. Those few minutes before work became my favorite time of day.

However, we didn't even know each other's names. To an outsider, we probably looked like close acquaintances. But I felt incredibly comfortable with this distance between us.

One day, when I arrived at the bus stop, the lady was holding a large plastic container and looking at me with a grin. "I got these cucumbers, so I tried making them into light pickles. Want some?"

When she opened the lid, the sharp scent of vinegar wafted out. The container was packed full of thinly sliced cucumbers. "Thank you, I will," I said, picking up a cucumber with my fingertips and putting it in my mouth.

I'm probably the only person who has ever eaten light cucumber pickles at a bus stop in the morning.

But those light cucumber pickles were the most delicious I had ever tasted. The saltiness soaked into my exhausted body, worn out from battling my 'terrible twos' monster.

"Eat the rest of these later," she said, handing me the whole container before boarding the bus ahead of me.

I wonder if this is what it would have been like if I had a grandmother. My grandmothers all passed away before I was old enough to remember them, so I grew up without knowing what a grandmother was.

"You know, if your grandmother were still alive, you probably would have been a grandmother's girl."

My mother often told me that. I thought about that as I watched the lady in the priority seat. I saw my real grandmother in the way she sat perched on the edge of the seat with her favorite pink shoulder bag dumped on her lap.

The taste of the cucumber I had eaten earlier still lingered in my mouth.

A little while later, it was decided that I would move, and I had to leave that area. Wanting to give her something in return before I left, I bought some rice crackers I found while out that I thought she would like.

"I'll give her these the day I see her and say goodbye." I tucked the crackers into my bag so I would be ready whenever I saw her.

But when I actually saw her face, I couldn't give them to her. I couldn't even bring myself to say the simple words, "I'm moving away."

Even though we had always talked about such silly things and laughed together.

I wanted our relationship to remain casual until the very end.

I'm sure the lady will just say, "I haven't seen that girl lately," and make another friend at the bus stop with someone else.

And that was fine. A somber farewell didn't suit us. It's enough that she's still there laughing.

Even now, when I eat lightly pickled cucumbers, her voice and her crinkly-eyed smile come to mind. I wonder if she's doing well. The taste of a grandmother I never knew.

If we ever happen to meet again, I want to laugh and tell her about how I couldn't say goodbye that day. Thank you, ma'am.

Please teach me how to make those delicious lightly pickled cucumbers.