The perfect lady
I was going back home on a bus, the window was open and the breeze with the view were a delight. Around that time we used three definitions in the traditional jargon: “Ganga”, which is referred to the oldest and therefore the cheapest bus; “the Bus”, which was the intermediate, and “the Buseta”, which was like riding on the Ford of the cars. I clarify that back then in Colombia there were not that many vehicles brands so during those years a Ford was a very nice one. I would have around 14 years old -Remember, I have 42 years old now- and I was fascinated by my surroundings. That week my father had done well in his company, and this allowed me to enjoy the landscape with some serenity. Not so many gave themselves the luxury of paying a few extra coins to be more comfortable, or it was just not possible.
The sun was shining over the city, allowing the enjoyment of the brightness and the fresh breeze. In the distance I saw a woman who was walking in the same direction of the bus, I thought, that maybe she was in her 40s, her hips had some wiggle that raised her to a special glamor, her dress was crimson red, long enough to touch the her knees. She had a defined waist with big hips, it was noticeable that she had given birth. I thought: “How grateful were those children by having her as their mother”, they gave her some dreamy hips. Her hair was bright and short, she probably had gone to the hairdresser that day. A purse that was hanging on her right shoulder and the wiggle of her walk gave her a picaresque touch. Her firm walk and posture stylized her. She was not very tall, nor was she short, but she knew how to take advantage of her few inches. Her perfect elbows gave me an idea of her white and perfect skin without any stain.
I imagined a world of glamor around her, servants, maids, a three-storey house with many rooms, maybe two cars decorating the entrance, and a garden full of colorful flowers, orange juice as her first drink right after waking up brought to bed on a silver tray… I was inmerce with those dreams in my head, when the bus passed that woman and I could see her face… It was my mom! For a couple of seconds I was in shock. The bus continued on it’s way and turned left through a large avenue, I could not speak. The first words that came out of my mouth where whinings that frightened everyone inside the bus: “Stop! I need to get off”. The driver, dazed, sank the brake and my forehead hit the front chair. I could barely get up. I jumped down while trying to not lose sight of my mother and chase her. It felt like an eternity passed between us.
Then, for a few blocks, we walked together, I was totally fascinated next to the most beautiful woman in the world. Taking her elbow, feeling the softness of that white perfect skin.
By Yeni Toro Go
Note: Mother, from the distance I write to you, reliving every memory in my mind, every thread that connects me with you. Three years without seeing you is living in the eternity that I felt as I got off that bus and came to you. I love you.
Pamela Muñoz Graphic Designer