Yelling at the Man-Boy

Wendy and I returned a rented van this morning, so I missed my usual ferry. I've been writing here in the terminal, and was just witness to a very one-sided arguement between a man-boy and a woman. They were both outside the terminal, and I had a perfect view of them through a round window. I couldn't tell if she was very angry at her teen son or her boyish-looking husband. She was very animated, not quite yelling but talking at him with some force. She used a limited set of gesticulations to help communicate her displeasure, among them were a circular motion with her hands, no doubt describing an unsatisfying cycle to which his actions or nonactions contribute; a pounding of her fist against the palm of her hand (or the empty space in front of her), clearly itemizing instances of trouble or opportunities missed; and an insistent pointing back at herself, probably referring to her very unmet needs. He just stood there, though, like a cigar-store indian.