He’s not there every day, but many days.
It’s a five-second human connection.
But like tree sap, the resin sticks, and it’s impossible to wash off.
I pull up to the security gate.
I swipe my card.
The gate lifts.
I glance to my left.
In winter, the door is shut, the glow of the lamp is a beacon in the pre-dawn hours. He’s there, head down, turning pages of the morning paper or a paperback. He’s approaching the end of his overnight shift.
It’s summer now, the door is open, he’s standing, motionless.
I used to offer a “Good Morning!”
I gave up on him after a number of intermittent attempts.
He failed to reciprocate. I was left empty. I refused to start my day in a ditch.
Now the morning contact is wordless.
One man’s eyes fixed on the other. A recognition. An acknowledgment.
But no more. A Cold War.
But Not.
Like Van Gogh, there’s something in the eyes, solemn and imposing – the soul of a human being.
The eyes would not free their grip.
While his substitutes offer perky Good Mornings! in his absence, I’m left wondering where he is.
Are you ill? Did your car break down? Did you miss your Bus? Did you need to stay home with a child?
He wasn’t at his station on Thursday morning.
I walk into the building and up the stairs.
I get to the landing and there he is.
He’s 5′ 10″, shorter than expected.
He’s in his 60’s.
He’s wearing black slacks, thick soled black shoes, and a light weight summer jacket. Black too.
I pull out my I.D. card and swipe it.
I open the door and move right.
As he passes through, he offers a warm smile:
“Thank you Sir. Much obliged.”
He walks down the hallway, with his back hunched over ever so slightly, and disappears.
Notes:
- Inspired by Steve Layman: It is the little things.
- Photograph: Katharina Severing via bostankorkulugu
- Related Posts: Driving Series
One never really knows the path of another…My hunch is that those articulated ‘good mornings’, though not reciprocated meant more to him than you realize.
I agree Mimi … Or he is simply short sighted … I like your version better!
And that, Mimi, is the moral of the story.
Every once in a while, even I get the point…;-)
Love this piece David – it provokes thought and recollections …
Thank you Val.
The untold stories of the folks in our everyday life. It makes me wonder, as well. Especially when they go missing. Nice post. ☺
Yes Van. Yes. Agree. Thank you.
Expectation is premeditated resentment. When we do something or say something and don’t get the response we want or expect, we feel slighted. What if we proceed without attachment to the outcome? Because, as Mimi said, we never know the path of another. We don’t always know what impact we’ve had, either.
Yes, what if we proceed without attachment to the outcome. That’s it. Magic potion, right there.
“Expectation is premeditated resentment.” Such wisdom in those 4 simple words, Carolann. It’s sometimes *so* hard to avoid expectation, but boy, it *can* lead to a sense of loss, resentment, and more. It really is so true–ya just never know what impact you’ll have on another, ya just have to keep the faith and hope it’s a good one.
Yes, Carolann rings the bell with those words.
I agree with the above. And you may have opened a door, figuratively, to further communication.
Yes, and didn’t even know it.
We always have an impact, and many times we are not able to see it. I suspect the many times you said good morning influenced this man much more than you know. Light always illuminates something…
Love this statement Vicki: “Light always illuminates something…” Thank you.
I am always wondering about the story behind the people I meet or see. I guess because we don’t know, we should share our abundance and grace where we can. This post was a wonderful reminder to us all. 🙂
Yes Karen. Your comment reminds me of the old adage…”until you’ve walked in a man’s shoes…”
I LOVE that you got to encounter each other out of context. The stories change.
Thanks Sandy. The stories, the do change depending on where your stand and when you are reflecting….sort of like reading the same book years later, you wonder if you had ever read it.
The fact of the matter is…you acknowledged this person’s existence and that is a wonderful thing. Even just looking into another person’s eyes is something huge these days. He knows and he takes that with him, I’m sure…and you become part of the ripple which makes up this man’s life. I truly believe that no act of kindness and consideration occurs without being passed on some way, even if it is just the slightest softening of a heart.
Terrific insight Carol. And a divine close.
your kind hello’s, even when not reciprocated, are huge to him.
Huge to all of us…
Love this. All we can do is keep being authentic and true, never quite knowing what another person has on their mind. You are a good soul DK.
Awwww, thank you Bonnie.