Miss Piggy

Here sitting amongst the trees on my balcony, I feel enclosed, something like a treehouse. Far to my right cars go by like bugs in the distance. Just a little bit of city to go with a lot of country. Looking down there's a piece of land thick with bushes uncut like a jungle. The proper amount of breeze has come up making my oasis quite unique. I almost forget how lonely I was this past weekend. The first of the summer's heatwaves hit and I didn't know what to do with myself. Business slows down in the summer leaving me with time on my hands. Again my shortcoming rears it's ugly head. Time to do something and nobody to do it with. If I had somebody, I'd be wishing I were alone. I headed for Newport where they used to have a good cheese danish and some good black smack. When I arrived the place was hopping and the Beethoven was sailing out of all the speakers. Waited in line, what else is new? Then perched myself like a bird on the bench outside balancing my coffee and bun and briefcase. A couple on the next bench were speaking in very business-like tones and very much caught up in their self-importance. They needed the symbol of a briefcase between their legs. "Stereotypes," I said to myself. Newport always gave me the feeling of inadequacy. Why did I come here? Moved on down into town, but had the good sense to leave my briefcase behind in the car. Walked down Thames Street by the shops and over into the center of town where the boats were docked. I remember a day last year sitting there enjoying it so but not today, it was just too hot. There was a tour ferry going out at 11 o'clock. The ride they said, would be an hour and 15 minutes. Certainly it was a day for such a ride. I walked up and down for an half and hour; couldn't make up my mind. Getting on the Block Island boat was no problem with me, but this is for tourists! A tour up the harbor.... my mind went back to my honeymoon many years ago. I hated that cruise up the Hudson, especially without a drink. Tom was just delighted with the whole experience. I sulked all the way up and all the way back. No, even if they do serve drinks aboard ship, I'm depressed enough. Somehow managed to get back to my car that was parked at up the coffee shop. It was still quite hot and not even 11 a.m. yet. I was home before noon. "Poor me, what shall I do? " The city was so quiet. One of these houses I own has a pool. It beats sitting with self-pity. Managed to sit pool-side a short time. Then I decided "Home James" for me. Got into the bowels of the work I had left behind to go on this safari. Chairs were put out on the sidewalk to give not only the cosmetic affect but to let people know I was here to service them should they find themselves en route in the deserted city. As I arranged my cakes to tempt the passer-by, there she was sitting in the same chair outside my window. Her face looked like a pig's. She had very high cheekbones, sunken eyes, and her mouth went to one side. Her nose was square with nostrils just like Miss Piggy. I was not frightened by her, but rather impressed by her neatly-dressed appearance and the look of serenity on her face.This lady had been coming every Sunday afternoon for quite a while now. She would sit for about a half hour, then she'd be gone. Because it was so hot, I had the air-conditioner on, something I can't sit in for long, so I figured I'd sit myself outside. Hello, I said. The first time I had ever spoken to her. We exchanged the weather report, then I invited her in to see L'Elizabeth's. Of course, she was impressed. That's when she told me she came from Scotland. Had her first child at age 43. In her native land this was not considered anything unusual, but here in America 32 years ago, that was considered old. I asked her, "Did you have a hard time of it?" Oh no, she said. "My mother had her last baby in Scotland when she was 44. Where do you live? I asked, in Providence?" No, I take a bus here, I like to walk around. It reminds me of Scotland, all the old houses and little streets. Whenever I get depressed, I just get on the bus and walk. It's so pretty here. Then I get on the bus and head home. What spirit this woman had. Here I was trying to run away all day to what she was running to. The next time my self-pity shows it's ugly face, I will remember the woman with not such a pretty face as I, for she has no beauty to stand in her way of having a most beautiful day.

Copyright; Ruth Mahoney Tues. June 14, 1988