Riding the bus

Today I rode in one of the seats facing backward. I had a good view of the double-length bus and three of its doors. I noticed the woman, waiting as we pulled up. She was carrying boughs of flowering shrubs, not as a prepared bouquet, but stems up, as if she had just cut them on the way to the bus stop. She got right on and sat next to the older woman, immediately sharing the scent of her offering. They chatted easily. Then I noticed the older woman has a smaller bunch of red flowers. I pulled out my phone and moved to a seat closer. Using the international language of a smile, I indicated that I wanted to take a picture of the flowers. They smiled and agreed. I then asked a question even though I knew the answer.

"Sisters?" 

"No, my mother!"

I smiled again and acknowledged the relationship, wishing the older woman, "Happy Mother's Day!"

As we got off, my husband asked "Wasn't Mother's Day weeks ago?" I said that they could put it on an ignorant foreigner. 

There is an epilogue. The women were on our bus returning several hours later. I didn't get close enough to acknowledge them. They no longer carried their bouquets. I wondered if they had been to church or had visited someone.