Anne the Bag Lady Essay Example for Free

Anne the Bag Lady EssayAnne the Bag Lady Every good afternoon you shadow count on seeing Anne right at one oclock at the park, pushing her marketplace cart full of her treasures. A cart overflowing with heavy-duty black garbage bags as easily as an array of duffels and suitcases. The black garbage bag an ambiguous container the contents within cannot be seen or known. As she pushes her cart, the constant rattling of a wheel competes with the clanging of aluminum cans that she collects hanging in a bag on the side of her cart. Anne roceeds to her bench, constantly aware of everyone around her, but neer making essence contact. She arranges herself at her bench under the old oak tree, not far from the playground. She places her cart so it is never come out of her line of vision. Her eyes are constantly moving looking, watching darting likes that of a small fleshly sensing danger. Anne begins to eat her regular sandwich, ham and cheese on wheat that she gets from Father Tim a t the topical anesthetic Catholic Church.As she eats her sandwich, you otice how grimy her hands are hands she had Just employ gibe in garbage cans for her precious aluminum. Today Anne is wearing her best dirt caked Jacket, once a impertinent Kerry green, now a faded sickly green, with a tear on the sleeve. Her mousy blonde wigging that once may have been styled in an attractive shoulder length bob now a tangled, grimy mess. Do you know how hard it is to get a wig to keep its shape when you do it around in a plastic bag?Anne has put on her newest shoes, old tan olored hightail it shoes one without laces. Her dress looked like the old flowered snap front cotton star sign coats, my grandmother used to wear around the house. Hers is worn, dirty and the color is faded beyond all recognition, peeking out from under the hem of her dress is an old black slip, the lace at the bottom torn. Anne is wearing stockings that go to her knees held up by some kind of yarn or string. Over he r stockings she is wearing socks that are used and worn the color again impossible to know.Anne always sits alone, a solitary fgure, watching, looking, wary. She very rarely speaks to anyone turn out for possibly Father Tim even then short, cryptic remarks. She is rather small in stature, not more than than five feet, two or three, bent and the shoulders from age. Anne does not look fragile or tiny maybe old and rigid, but never fragile. Anne has been a part of this community for as long as can be remembered, almost a historical monument. She is a part of the community that most do not notice, but seems to miss when is not there.