Fruit.

This morning I was walking to work from Cumberland Ave where Michael dropped me off, and at the corner of Congress and whatever street it is that parking lot is on a woman approached me and asked if I had any spare change.

She looked 50-60ish though it's hard to tell with addicted folks, and she was definitely a smoker and drinker if not more than that. (As an aside, it's scary how being the child of an alcoholic gives you a nearly unerring "drunk meter" where you can tell if someone's had even a couple of drinks, and if they're career drinkers.) She was very thin and had a large abrasion on her chin that looked like it was healing badly and needed some Neosporin. Her lined face was kind and a little baffled in that hungover chilly morning way.

I apologized as I didn't have any money on me - in fact, I rarely carry money and what I do I keep tucked in my bag so it's not easily accessible. As she was telling me that was all right, I realized that I was holding a plastic bag with a banana and an apple in it, which I was bringing to work. I asked her, "Would you like a banana?" and she did an excited little two-step shuffle, exclaiming, "Oh yes! I would love a banana! They're great for varicose veins!" I grinned and handed the bag over to her, saying, "There's a banana and an apple in here, go ahead and take them." She tried to refuse, saying she felt bad to be taking both, and I reassured her that I had more at work and I wanted her to have them. We exchanged goodbyes and I headed for the park. As I was crossing it, I looked back and saw her continue down the street, happily eating the banana, the bag looped over one arm.

Something about her reminded me of Mom. I don't know if it was the fact she looked like an alcoholic, or that she looked around Mom's age, or something about her face was similar, but I let out a quick sob and let a tear dry at the corner of my eye without wiping it away as I made my way to work.