At the top of the hill by the traffic signal she waves me down,
A little woman with a large plastic box waving her arms,
Help. Help me. I need you help me. 10 minutes, 10 minutes.
I look over at her, the expectant, hopeful look in her eyes.
I look at the plastic box there by her feet, a jumble of cloth and small pieces of wood, a red ceramic bowl and shiny porcelain figurines.
The light changes to green, the traffic begins to roll forward.
She looks at my bike rack, sees my hesitation as an invitation.
She’ll make do with what she’s got. Today, a confused man with a bike rack, he’ll do.
She starts to lift up her box.
Here, I’ll help you, I say, and help her place the box gently on the rack.
10 minutes, 10 minutes, she says, waving her hands down the long street of trees ahead.
The light changes. We walk across the intersection, she walking behind,
Balancing the box with her small hands, black hair bobbing up and down.
I’m Peter, I say.
Mai, she says.
I wonder how she got to this corner with this big plastic box.
I wonder where’s she’s been.
I wonder who she is.
So many questions, so many different worlds.
And now, this: a man, a bike and a black haired woman with a plastic box.
Down the street she waves me
Down past the burnt black remains of what was once a house.
Down past the fancy pink house with a red car trunk open in the drive and a woman taking out her grocery bags.
Down the street she clammers on, 10 minutes. 10 minutes.
Down and around the corner where a small black haired woman steps out of a house,
Sees us coming and throws her hands in the air.
The women cry out in exclamation and delight.
Everywhere, everywhere, there is laughter.
8 thoughts on “10 Minutes”
I just loved this simple, sweet story. Bless you Peter.
I am reminded again and again that our lives, our days, are made of such simple stories. I am grateful now and again to pause and remember them and the wonder of what happens in 10 minutes in a day,
So glad your confusion turned to action. You made her day.
Alleluia to that! Confusion turning to action! And thankful for those who help point the way so we can do just that!
What a great reminder how just “ten minutes” can give someone such joy–can give everyone such joy! Thanks so much, Peter.
Thanks Debra for writing and yes I wonder what 10 minutes out of our day might open in surprise, wonder and delight for us all today!
Wow, this brought tears to my eyes, Peter! The act of you helping this woman into her welcome, into some kind of reunion was beautiful.
Thanks Candace – and this was a great reminder for me of what 10 minutes in a day can do and how the wonder of God is waiting there along the sidewalk for us. Peter