Pagan Moss' Peep Show Stories

Thursday, February 26, 2004

Pink Parka



Pink Parka

The other morning I was on my way to work--it was 8:10 a.m. to be exact and the rain was coming down hard . . . even for Seattle. I walked briskly face down, sans umbrella; I was late. I knew this because the mothers were out with their children waiting for the school bus. I love the hip mommas of Capitol Hill--purple hair, dreads, piercings, flashing tats. I love the straight mommas, too! I saw the yellow bus in the distance, heading for the kids. The mothers gave their last kisses, straightening backpacks, handing off packed lunches, and then moved aside as the bus pulled up to the curb. I kept a steppin' as the bus pulled away with the kids. Just then, a little girl, no more than eight, came running down the sidewalk. She was wearing a bright pink puffy parka, the hood lined with white fluff. Her feet were flying, her arms waving at the bus.

"Stop, stop, please stop!" she screamed.

No one heard her except me.

I paused and looked back at the little girl. The other mommas were out of sight now. The little girl finally stopped, her hands on her hips staring down the bus which was fast becoming nothing but a yellow blob down the road. Her head hung down in defeat and she began to sob. My mind raced. There is something so absolutely paltry about running after a bus in the rain. I wanted to comfort her . . . but it was not my place. It seemed so unnatural to leave her there in that state, but that is exactly what I did. I turned around and kept walking, footsteps heavy.





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