Strange Kindness

Blogger deleted one of my entries. It was probably the best one of the year, too. I wrote it in iambic pentameter and the ending would have brought tears to anyone's eyes. But mostly it was about the awesome Christmas present Young Bo' and I made for Nice Doc and Whitecastle- their own two-cups-and-floss telephone set decorated with Calvin, Hobbes, and snowflakes (or as Whitecastle called them, "the tiger and the boy"). Too bad Blogger hates you.

Depending on the time of day, there are many things that I hate. Chief among them: waiting for the bus and running after the bus, both of which I end up doing at least once a week. Last night, with the snow and ice on the ground and the bus still half a block away, I started slowly running, but it was more of a token gesture to tell myself I tried, I didn't actually think I had a chance of making it. But this man standing between myself and the bus saw me, "Are you after the bus?" he asked. Out of breath and flustered, I don't remember responding, just grunting and shooting out my hand, as if flagging down a cab. "Hold up!" he yelled back to the bus driver, "someone's coming." When I ran past the man with a hoarse, "thank you," he just said "don't worry, it'll wait for you, don't worry." And in moments like that (and mercifully, there were actually a lot of moments like that this weekend), there is no animus toward the MBTA, just a swelling of appreciation for a stranger. Best stranger of the year.