one evening almost Christmas

ten-o'clock cold and windy

from city centre to suburbs

crowded tram close and steamy

floods of patrons from the theatres,

concerts, cinemas, restaurants, shopping malls

a buzz of chat about performances

food and wine, purchases and prices

 

I had to stand, anchoring myself on a bum pad.

At the next stop a black lady boarded

lugging awkward shopping bags.

She looked tired, and discouraged.

I moved over to share the pad

making floorspace for her parcels

and she smiled her thanks.

As the loaded tram careened down the tracks

bouncing passengers in their seats

jostling the standees like puppets on strings

we were braced together at the hips

planted on sturdy feet.

 

I don't know who spoke first -

striking that intimacy possible between women

because no other woman is a stranger.

We talked for the next fifteen minutes

oblivious of the pressing crowd

as we sped from stop to stop.

We shared experiences and feelings

with an unprecedented honesty

like friends of long-standing

trusting each other.

 

At her busy station she said 'good-bye'

and left briskly without looking back.

As the tram pulled away I saw her

almost skipping across the platform swinging her bags

eager to be home with her family

loving them - embracing their differences -

wanting Christmas with everybody together after all.

And then she was swarmed by the crowd.

 

How could it happen – this stranger on a tram?

A star messenger?

An angel! commanding this convergence of two lives?

Oh fie!

And yet - not so fie. Not so fie at all. What do I know.

It was a Christmas gift I shall never forget.