As I was walking, I heard someone shouting and looked over to see an older, religious woman motioning me over. She was standing in the front of her building with a large collection of shopping bags, and pointing to them. As I got closer and could hear her better (when you don't know a language well, proximity positively correlates to comprehension) I could understand that she was saying she had a bad hip, and if I didn't mind to carry her bags up to her apartment. "Just to the third floor".
Being in no rush whatsoever, I happily obliged. Grabbing five or six bags (none of them were very heavy), we chatted going up the stairs, which mainly consisted of her thanking me and how kind I was and that usually her children helped but none of them were home. We got to her apartment and I set her bags down, ready to say my goodbyes and be off.
"Wait, wait, wait!" she says. "I have pita!" And, reaching into one of the bags I had carried up, she pulls out two pieces of pita and hands them to me.
"Thank you again, and God bless your help."
"Geveret, really. I don't need them. I am happy to help."
"No, no. Take them! Please."
So, two still-warm pieces of pita in hand, I thanked her, said my good-byes again and headed home.
I kind of don't want to eat them but to save them so I can remember the nice woman who gave me some pita just for carrying her bags up to her apartment. Since I can't save them for posterity, I guess a picture will have to do.
No comments:
Post a Comment