Nancy Triggiani
I don’t know your name but I wish I did. You shuffled in leaning on your three-pronged cane, escorted by a woman more than half your age. Taking small steps, you searched for a seat. The woman, spotting an empty chair next to mine, ordered you to sit. Dutifully and with effort, you slowly bent your knees, lowering your body into the chair. You looked at me. Why didn’t I ask your name? You asked the woman why you were there. Curtly, she replied she’d tell you later. You accepted it. Time went by. You again asked the reason for the visit but the retort was equally as short and uninformative. With dignity, you nodded. I sensed your kindness. Who was this woman I wondered, an aid just doing her job? A few more verbal exchanges between the two of you left me ill at ease. Why does she speak to you like this? Why didn’t I smile at you more? Why didn’t I ask your name? The clock continued to tick, as we all awaited our turn to meet with different consulate officials. You crossed your legs, accidently knocking over your cane. I reached for it but the woman grabbed it first. You looked at me saying, “thank you” for my attempt to heIp. Read more