A woman stands by a garbage can that blocks the sidewalk, gardening gloves on her hands. She turns, looks at my power chair, then squats down to pull weeds, her back to me.
The sidewalk is uneven as I approach her driveway. I slow down, then stop.
"Excuse me," I say, needing to get past.
"Go on the other side of the block," she says, not looking at me, not turning.
It's a talking back, I think to myself.
Then I remember that this is the house where the tree branches always hit the side of my chair. I'm glad she's cleaning her yard up so the sidewalk is passable.
There's no curb cut to cross the street for blocks and it's a highly trafficked street, so I scoot onto the bottom part of her driveway, around the garbage can, behind her and continue on my way.
"Hey!" she yells. "I told you to go on the other side of the street."
"Heard you," I say.
Now I am the talking back.
2 comments:
I do not think that words exist to explain how I feel when I read something like this. I simply do not, can not and will never understand it.
I'm pretty good about seeing most sides of situations. But a situation like this? I am as close minded as they come. Don't get it at all.
I'm sorry I'm going on and on (you'd think I'd be speechless since I have no words!) but, man oh man.
Sorry you have to encounter these sort of people, Ruth. You had a great comeback.
BG- thanks for the validation that this kind of 'tude that is sometimes encountered results in feelings that are hard to put into words and also is just past comprehension.
Meredith tends to bang dishes around the sink when she hears this stuff.
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