At the Crosswalk

So, as usual, Little Bear and I were bustling to school to be on time. The crossing guard, as usual, was so engrossed in conversation she did not notice people waiting to cross. Little Bear and I got a flag and crossed. When I came back from dropping him off, I heard her yell from across the street. She accosted me with her words and they cut me down. I knew how it felt to be yelled at. I, at first, said please don't speak to me like that. She started to say that it was my Bear's fault. I said it was mine, if anyone was at fault, but I also mentioned that she was not paying attention. She got even more abrasive. This was not a good way to start a day. (I already went out to the bedraggled, frozen garden to get the last of the produce, our summer sunshine encased in cellulose).
I was suddenly inspired to say, "You are a sweet lady and I know you don't mean to talk to me like this." Her face visibly changed and she became my friend again. She leaned in close and told me of how her granddaughter had been hit and killed crossing a street many years ago and how her family has never gotten over it. I began to cry and we hugged. This was completely unexpected but I think I was blessed with a glimpse into another person's anguish.
Just as I will miss my little garden that gave us joy and sustained us for a long time, I hope the memory of that little girl can be a happy one for her family and they can be healed.