The pickle jar

The house is at the intersection of Darwin and Union ave. We often saw the house when we went to the Tryon park. Every time we passed it we always stop to marvel at how nicely the grass was maintained and especially how beautiful the small garden surroundng the house was.

One day while waiting for the bus I saw some one wiping the window pane from the inside. All I could see was a pair of hands. I wondered who lived there. Obviously some one who was very particular about appearance. Some one neat and tidy and with a sense of beauty.

As days went by the house became an ordinary sight and not a special one, just like all the wonderful things in life and I stopped noticing it. Then all of a sudden I saw an old lady walking out of the house and down the steps. She came forward and stood right across the street and then I saw that she was holding a pickle jar in her hand.I also noticed how frail looking she was.

I thought to myself, "She must be going over to her friends place with that pickle jar. What a strange thing to do at 8'O Clock in the morning. I watched along with the other people who were waiting for the bus to New York. She was very careful and did not cross till there wasn't a vehicle in sight.

Then she slowly reached our side of the road and asked some one, "Could you please open this pickle jar?" I was shocked. As I watched the guy open the jar with the help of a napkin and other people rushing to help her back across the street, many thoughts raced through my mind. Was that lady living all alone in that house? How did she manage? I had a very frustrating experience when I tried to open a pickle jar and I had seen a show on comedy central that commented on the very fact. It was really funny.I felt sorry for her and all other people like her. I thought of my parents and Iby's parents who lived half way across the globe. But it wasn't my fault, it was the pickle bottlers' fault.

By now the old lady had waved to all of us and went back inside the house.