Consolacion

The old woman uses a cane to support her four foot eleven inch frame. She has a string tied around her neck to support the cardboard plate she holds out for change. She never looks up; her black, hunched-over, tiny silouette is unmistakable from a distance. She never looks up. Until today.

"Hola Consolacion, we have food for you."

The old woman lifted her eyes to those of the younger woman addressing her. She hadn't heard someone call her by name in so long. The majority of people treat her like they treat every other begger... like she isn't there. The most beautiful smile I have ever seen spread across her sun-weathered, wrinkly face. Ripples like brown waves formed on her forehead, around her mouth, and seemed to stop abruptly at her hairline around her eyes- eyes that were wide with surprise and joy. Her smile showed every tooth she had, although half were missing, and you could see her tongue prodding around her mouth to form words. She reached up her tiny arm, forgetting for a second about the tray of coins she was holding, and grabbed the young woman's head in an attempt to kiss her face.

The two women talked and in the distance people sneered.

"Look at them," Consolacion said, pointing her finger into the crowd. "They stare at us as if we're doing something wrong... ASSHOLES!"

The young woman tried to hold back the laughter. She still isn't used to old women with Mother-Teresa-esque features shouting profanities. A lot of times the only thing she can do is laugh. The only other option is to cry.