At the restaurant

At lunch mum and I went to a traditional Taiwanese eatery. It's what she felt like eating, and in the few days during and after chemo, if she feels like eating and if she can eat, then that's the most important thing.

We ordered a few simple dishes. Boiled sweet potatoes leaves with soy sauce and garlic, seasoned tofu skin, Chinese cabbage with fish skin, two little fish with lots of meat, a bowl of meatball soup and rice noodle soup for me.

Soon after we sat down, an elderly woman came in and sat down at the table right next to ours. She had white hair, a face graced with wrinkles, and held a walking stick, and she was with (what I think was) her daughter. They said very little, only the bare essential while ordering food. Once the waiter took the order and left, the daughter (I'm guessing) took out a smart phone and began playing with it.

Mum and I ate, and we exchanged quiet conversation and laughs about this and that. At times I'd tell her to eat this, eat more of that, because it's good for her, and I'd move the plates around so that she'd get a taste of everything, fearing that she might not get enough.

I felt the elderly woman watching us as we ate, as we spoke. It was not an uncomfortable gaze, for a few times our eyes met, and she seemed to want to say something to me. She fidgeted with her hands, while her daughter (I'm guessing) looked down and fingered her smartphone. I felt somewhat bad for the elderly woman, who seemed so much want to talk, want some company, but then her daughter (I'm guessing) was more interested in the phone than in her. She seemed to be looked over at my mum and I and watching us eat and engage in conversation with envy.

Getting up ready to leave the restaurant, I turned to say goodbye to the elderly woman. She just nodded and smiled.