There is something about the rote-ness of driving that opens a person up to contemplation, deep feelings, and, if we choose, compassion.
Today I was driving around town, doing errands. As I was turning out of the Wegmans’ parking lot, a lululemon blonde was turning in, her window open, wisps of her hair getting stuck in the tears streaming down her face. Clearly in anguish, but still going grocery shopping.
At a stoplight, I noticed an older woman waiting to my right – somehow, her posture seemed off. I looked twice, then saw her face, mouth turned down, set. She was tilting her head up, trying to keep her tears in the well of her eyes.
Then there was the neat Taiwanese woman who goes to my gym. I was waiting to turn left; she pulled up on my right. I saw her sigh and pull her shoulders back and with the back of her hand wipe a tear from her cheek toward her carefully styled hair. Yet she was going to work out.
Anguish, loss, illness, and despair… and still we go on. Every random sighting of an everyday hero makes us each just a little more human.
Today I was driving around town, doing errands. As I was turning out of the Wegmans’ parking lot, a lululemon blonde was turning in, her window open, wisps of her hair getting stuck in the tears streaming down her face. Clearly in anguish, but still going grocery shopping.
At a stoplight, I noticed an older woman waiting to my right – somehow, her posture seemed off. I looked twice, then saw her face, mouth turned down, set. She was tilting her head up, trying to keep her tears in the well of her eyes.
Then there was the neat Taiwanese woman who goes to my gym. I was waiting to turn left; she pulled up on my right. I saw her sigh and pull her shoulders back and with the back of her hand wipe a tear from her cheek toward her carefully styled hair. Yet she was going to work out.
Anguish, loss, illness, and despair… and still we go on. Every random sighting of an everyday hero makes us each just a little more human.
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