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by mindyb Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Other · Community · #1520548
A true story of what it took for one person to discover just how fortunate she really was.
I first encountered Mavis one spring morning while I was meandering down the main street of our small town.  It was one of those lazy sunny days and I was out for a walk with no real destination in mind.  She was sitting on a street bench in front of a boarded up, abandoned storefront.  She was a petite lady, just a bit shy of 5 feet, although her stooped shoulders made her seem smaller than she actually was.

I smiled and nodded politely as I passed, but really never gave her another thought.  The next time I saw Mavis, she was outside the local pizza parlor, sitting on the bench nestled between the front door and the trash can.  As mine was the only car in the parking lot, I just assumed she was passing by and had just stopped to rest. 

And so went our encounters, back and forth throughout the days to follow.As days grew to weeks, and weeks to months, I began to note that Mavis was to be found nearly every single day sitting out front of the same empty storefront on Main Street, on what I began to think of as “her” bench.

The more I took note of her, the more my curiosity grew.  She was always dressed in one of only two outfits I had ever seen her in.  I had never seen her smile or show much interest in the people around her. Her hair, while always combed, was obviously uncared for in the cleanliness department. Her clothes were often spattered with stains and a bit ragged.

Being somewhat of a softy, I began to ask around a little bit to see what I could find out about Mavis.  I was kind of surprised to discover that Mavis had been a resident in the same location for over fifty years. According to locals she was anywhere between 75 and 85 years old; no one was really certain. After quizzing many people, I ascertained that although Mavis had been a resident her for over five decades, no-one in our small town either knew her directly or knew anything much about her.

A few times on my now choreographed “walks”, I would frequently sit down beside her on the bench.  I found out very quickly that Mavis was a woman of very few words and didn’t really appreciate any of my attempts at casual chit chat.  I began to slowly notice how very alone Mavis was, but didn’t really know what I could do about it. Every attempt I made at being friendly was rebuffed.

I kept having these thoughts that even today make me cringe.  I was thankful that it wasn’t my mother or grandmother sitting out there on that bench, alone, day after day.  I wondered where she lived and how she survived each day.  I had nightmares about where she spent her nights. Although my family wasn’t by any means rich, we had certainly never lacked the basics of food, water and shelter.

Although she spoke very infrequently, it became very apparent that she was a woman of very few means and even fewer resources.  I didn’t have a lot of money, but every so often I would leave a few dollars in change behind on the bench, hoping she thought that it had just accidentally fallen out of my pocket.  Her quiet pride and dignity made me hesitate to offer it to her directly, and I was uncomfortable intruding in a person’s life who so very obviously wanted to be left alone.

The following week when I saw Mavis, I knew immediately that she knew that I had left the money behind on purpose. Her quiet saddened smile let me know that although she appreciated it; she needed her pride and dignity far more than I need recognition for my paltry few dollars.

Overtime, I began to notice Mavis more and more as she ventured out on her walks.  Her walks inevitably led her back to the bench in the parking lot of that same pizza joint.  I thought my heart would break into pieces when I discovered she was foraging the trash containers for food! She caught me watching her once, and the shame on her face and the hopelessness in her eyes, made me turn away from her to hide the tears in my eyes. I felt ashamed that I had learned her secret, and I felt disgust that there wasn’t more that I could for her.

And so we continued for several months.  I would leave what little money I could behind me when I left her bench and we never spoke of it.  Whenever I saw her at the pizza shop, I would always leave a take out container with a couple of pieces of pizza on the garden wall beside the trash receptacle.  I always left quickly so she wouldn’t have to endure watching me notice that she picked them up; although we both knew that I knew that she did.

I took to carrying a grocery bag in the trunk of my car filled with just a few items of food along with sample size shampoos, bottled water, and such.  Whenever I neared the pizza place and noticed her in the area, I would leave the bag tucked discreetly underneath the bench. I never actually witnessed Mavis retrieving my little offerings, but I did notice that the bag and its contents disappeared.  I hope that she was able to retrieve them with some little shred of dignity left intact; and I hope that it in some small way made her life just a little bit easier.

It is winter now and I haven’t seen Mavis in two months.  I pray that she is someplace safe and warm and is getting enough to eat.  I wish I could have done more but I still don’t know what more I could have done. Wherever she is, I hope that she somehow knows that somebody really did care.

Please try to reach out to someone in your community.  It is sometimes very difficult to do, but we need to help our neighbors in any small way that we can.  Making a one dollar donation to your local food bank is an easy (and anonymous) way to help make a difference in someone’s life.  Donate your children’s gently used toys and clothing to your local goodwill.

We sometimes don’t realize what wealth we actually possess until we meet a Mavis.

© Copyright 2009 mindyb (m.barr07 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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