The People I Will Miss

This morning I went down to the market to give some things to one of my favorite old people, Mrs. Tan, also known as Plant Lady. I have described her previously here. It was the last time I'll ever see her, along with many of my favorite people around the neighborhood.

Plant Lady was delighted to receive my old shoes, shirt, some tea, and a hat. She had been pestering me about giving her things when I move out. There's a new PiAer living in our apartment next year, so Christmas in the summer was limited. We gave most of our things to our other favorite old people, affectionately known as "Stroke Lady and Stroke Lady's Husband," who I will introduce in my next post.

I love my interactions with Plant Lady (what I can catch, since she speaks with a deep Dalian accent). A couple days ago I went to give her back some plants that I had bought from her so she can save them from my brown thumb. Always the capitalist, she tried to sell me another plant: "You got a pimple. You need some of that aloe." "I'm about to leave, I don't want to buy more plants," I replied. She grunted in understanding. Then she dug around in her purse, ripped open a tattered plastic bag, and smeared some unidentifiable ointment on my skin with her grubby pinky finger. The pimple is gone now, bolstering my faith in ointments from old ladies.

This morning, immediately after receiving my leftovers, she asked, "So what did you do with that bike of yours?" I explained that I had already given it back to the bike repairman, so he can actually make so money off of it after helping me for pennies all year. Plant Lady stamped her foot like a child, and, almost whining, said "Ohhh, why didn't you give it to me? That bike would have been great for me!" "I didn't know you wanted it," I said. I think she'll be fine without my bike, but now I feel like I need to dig around my apartment to find more things to give an old packrat who's lived through hard times.

A couple weeks ago we took some pictures together. I had asked her once before, but she said she's ugly and didn't want to have her picture taken. So I waited, and then asked again if we could take them together. She said, "Meet me at the market on Sunday. I'll wear my nice clothes." And yes, she did. Pearl necklace and a hat I hadn't seen before. Here she is in all her glory:





I'll miss that gap-toothed smile!