To the old woman who stretches,
The first time I saw you, I thought you were talking to a friend who was out of sight. You were casually leaned over a taxi the way I imagine a young girl from the 1950’s leans over a counter to flirt with her love interest. Your posture amused me but I didn’t think much of it as I rode past you on my scooter. On my way to work the next morning, I passed you again in the same flirtatious position, only this time I was more confused than amused. I didn’t have a chance to really evaluate the situation, but I knew your conversation partner was nowhere in sight. As I approached you the following day, I slowed my speed. You weren’t talking, but in fact were stretching!
This immediately brought to mind at least twenty-five questions I wanted to ask you: were you just beginning your workout or had it just ended? Was this your workout? Whose taxi were you stretching against? Yours? A friend’s? A stranger’s? Have you reached a point in your life where you don’t fear the harsh reprimand of a disgruntled taxi driver? Why do you choose to stretch against this taxi at approximately the same time every morning? Really, is this your taxi? If it is, how does it feel to be a female taxi driver? Do you feel safe? Discriminated against? What was it like as a girl or young woman growing up during the Chinese Communist Revolution? Do you remember your parents?
For the rest of my ride to work, I thought of this woman and her past. Social norms and language differences will leave my questions unanswered, but it won’t stop me from vividly imagining her life and past. So thank you, old woman who stretches. You have given me ample material to daydream about on my ride to work each morning.
At first morning light-
Stretch the Achille’s tendon.
Scarf keeps hair in place.
Update
I’ve seen this woman so regularly on my commute that I was able to briefly capture her in this video: