What does it take to sit? No, I mean Sit. Not sit with your iPhone. Or sit with your iPad. Or sit with your book. Or sit with your paper.
Just Sit.
He was in the window seat in a three seater. I took the aisle. The middle seat was empty.
It’s a one hour ride on the third train of the morning, the 5:56 Metro North to Grand Central, an Express.
His hands rested on his lap. There was nothing particularly distinguishing. Black loafers. Smart black coat. Black slacks. Thin brown leather case, comfortably worn.
He would occasionally glance out the window. And then return, looking straight ahead.
Man at Peace, of normal height and weight, casting a mountain of a shadow.
My hands would not, could not reach for my earbuds. The iPhone heavy, an anvil. My case, stuffed with other electronics and power cords, and papers, a barrel under arm.
I’m restless, fidgety, and shift in my seat — left, right, and back again. And do over. And over. And over.
I want to be that. Him. Continue reading “Riding Metro-North. With Missionary Man.”