2nd morning train: Metro North to Grand Central.
Dark Sky reports: Clear, 45° F and Rising.
Train rolls into Grand Central 2 minutes late, red ants swarm, clamoring and jostling to get to the exits.
The pace accelerates, foot traffic is flowing. I bear down on a doodler staring down at her smartphone, and need to slow, way down.
There’s heavy foot traffic on all sides, I veer right to pass, glare at her, but it misses wide as Ms. Oblivious’ is clueless as to the traffic backup.
As I straighten up, I ram into a Suit, who teeters, wobbles and regains his footing.
“Sorry!” Not really. New York Pal. Call your Momma for help.
I accelerate, zigging and zagging out of the tunnels to the main terminal.
I approach the first set of exit doors and the traffic thins.
The Suit in front hears me approaching, waits a second, and holds the door open for me. Wow. What’s this all about? I pass him.
I approach the second set of doors. Suit in front, pauses, looks back, holds the door open. Wow. In NYC.
And then here it comes. The Release. The Big Softening, triggered by a simple act of kindness, and then another in case I didn’t get the message the first time.
Lightning Strikes. Twice.
“What happens every day is what’s surprising. The treasure’s never where I look to find it but where I simply look – the sky, the wind, sunrise, a silver arc, the moment’s chance.”
~ Ursula K. Le Guin, from “The Everyday” in Finding My Elegy: New and Selected Poems, 1960-2010