Easy to get caught gaping, head-shaking, all lit-up like the recent Chrissy-trees observing the street scenes in these foreign parts: the shared family meals, the laughter, passage of a pair of pals (either gender). A maid doing the shopping; pushing or escorting her charge.
Lunch-time today a young woman she might have been escorting a pair of old crones to a taxi.
First she had come down onto the lower path to hail one, invisible light drops of rain giving her hurry it seemed.
In her cover age was difficult to judge: full-length emerald green kebaya and matching scarf, black veil covering the lower half of her face. A pair of frameless spectacles further masked features. Slight, nimble, the taller end of the scale. Black socks covering feet and ankles.
Once she saw the cab slowing on the approach she danced back up over the perforated concrete pavers to summon the pair of late seventies/early eighties. Floral kebayas in their case, portly and with faces uncovered. (No longer in danger of arousing lust.)
At the edge of their lunch table kisses had been delivered either cheek for the pair, the hands lastly. A shoulder bag would make the descent to the car a little awkward—the masked escort relieved the woman encumbered.
Quickly opening the rear door, a word with the driver. Before the women entered the same farewells repeated: either cheek and hands raised to her lips. (Foreheads omitted in this case.)
Light shepherding touches on the hip on entry, with thanks returned as the last settled within.
Once the pair was safely seated the handbag was placed between them—the escort stretching in to land it properly.
The impulse to enquire was restrained. A niece was best guess; possibly her husband’s aunts. For dearly loved aunts of her own there might have been something further added still of tenderness and cherishing.
Countless scenes here of the same kind, with only minor alteration for the parallel images stored in deepest memory from an age past.
Geylang Serai, Singapore, Feb 2015
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