The lady who cried

When I was 17 I lay awake in my bed at night not able to sleep. I can't quite remember what was going through my head at the time, however I know it was late (around  2 AM). It was autumn, but not windy or raining. The night was dark and still...until I head the sound of shoes click clacking on the street outside my window. The walk seemed confident, not slow, not fast but a good pace.

About 30 seconds later I heard a voice which I assumed belonged to the shoes. The voice was startled and scared. The voice then said shakily

" Oh, please... DON'T HURT ME"


There was fear,  tears and then silence. No shoes, no voice.

I jumped up to look out of the window, but I could not see anything. My window was situated to the side of the street overloving other houses. I could only see a glimpse of the street itself. I search for the voice and the shoes but did not see a soul. What happened to the voice? Should I do anything, call anybody? What should I tell them? What if it's a joke? So many questions and not a single answer for any of them.

In despair I crawled back into my bed and hoped that it was nothing. I really found myself denying what I'd just heard. I could not take it back or make any difference. How powerless I felt. From that day on I promised myself that I would never turn my head to the voice, or the shoes again. I felt so empty.

2010
I work half a day and decide to pick my Jasmin and Otis from school. I take my usual route which is Via Centraal Station, past the Ibis Hotel, along the bike boat, over the bridge and under the small tunnel. I have a bounce in my walk, after all my meeting this morning was great and left me inspired. Then as I approach the small tunnel I hear tears. A lady is sobbing with her hand across her face. She's really crying. She's also on the phone. I assume that she has had an argument with someone and that its personal, not right for me to ask her why she cries. Then she see's me watching her and  feels my stare, my curiosity. I hope I don't make her feel uncomfortable, but I'm actually quite concerned.

I walk over to her and she continues to cry with her phone to her ear. I'm not sure whether she's a tourist or a resident, so I ask her in English if she is okay and then I ask her in Dutch the same question. I rub her arm to give her some kind of support, but she sobs even more now. She looks at my face, deep in my eyes and her tears flow like a river.

I ask her what has made her so upset, but she cannot speak. Instead she grabs my hand and holds it firmly. She does not let go. I hold her hand too. She cries some more and I stroke her arm again and try to smile warmly at her. She returns my gesture with her eyes. Still she says nothing at all. Not on the 'phone nor to me. Silence...

She is still holding my hand and she is still crying.

Finally she nods at me and two tears trickle down onto her cheek. We look into each other eyes. The frown causes from her crying seem be permanently etched into her brow. Now she squeezes my hand firmly as if to say thank you. She then turns and slowly walks away, he head down and still crying.

I am left there for a few seconds, startled. What just happened? After my own shell shock I continue my journey,  my head wondering about her sadness.

Like when I was 17 I'll never what made the lady cry...