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I love public transport! I really really do! Not only is it convenient and a great way to contribute to a cleaner environment, but it also affords the opportunity to encounter savory characters. And I think savory is a perfect way to describe the offbeat, the colorful, the unconventional, the peculiar, don’t you? Savory = flavorful, interesting.
My favorite time of day to take the subway or ride the bus is at night or in the early hours of morning. That’s when the really interesting people come out. During my usual transit time, I tend to see a homogenous mass, a sea of sullen faces, a train full of zombies. This is Bob. Bob hates his job. It shows. Still, every morning and each evening, I try to find that one interesting person in the car, the one that makes the ride worthwhile, the one that has a story written on his face, in the slump of her shoulders, in the lines on his hands, in the Lays bag of chips that she eats every night at 5pm.
And every so often, sure enough, someone stands out in the crowd and catches my attention. I sneak peeks at them, I scan them with my peripheral vision, I wonder about them and create stories in my head. At times like that, I wish I was 4 years old again, before we were told it’s not polite to stare and it’s not safe to talk to strangers. Because that little girl? That four year old in me? She would probably point and ask what that scar is on his cheek and what’s in his briefcase and does he like toast with peanut butter and bananas? But we’re all in our adult bubbles and though some are thin and transparent like dish soap suds, others are made of impenetrable titanium alloy.
And then, the other morning…
She wore a coat two sizes too big and a soupçon of bench hair. He wore a flannel shirt with tattoo sleeves and work boots with holes in them. They stood out in comparison to the commuters heading downtown in corporate attire. He looked like a badass motha… but he held her tight. He held her close. He held her softly. And it looked like the most soothing place in the world to rest a weary head, that flannel shirt, that badass chest. There was no kissing, no making out, just two tired people holding each other up almost as if they had nothing left but each other. All I saw was love. Love is love regardless of the clothes you wear.
And then I glimpsed upon the following passage in the book being read by the guy standing beside me (that’s another thing I do, inconspicuously read other people’s books on the subway and pluck sentences from them, then walk away, like a thief of words.).
The passage was ”le court espace de la vie, telle que vous la concevez en ce moment…“
Loose translation: “the brief space/time that is life… as you conceive it at this moment…“
Since I just happened to be conceiving life as love, I thought… maybe this is it. Maybe we’re just here to love each other. Love knows no color, no price, no social class, no sexual preference, no status, no age. It is the one thing that every single person on this planet holds in their heart. The one constant. So maybe it’s all there is to it. And maybe it’s hokey but I’m pretty sure the meaning of life isn’t money so it might as well be love.
They got off at Berry station and I wanted the story to last just a little longer. But their love lingered, like a perfume long after someone has left the room, like the smell of his pillow after he’s gone… and I took it with me when I left. You don’t waste love like that. You take it, you recycle it, you pass it on in the form of a smile to the next savory character you meet… or one of the zombies, because zombies need love too. We all do.
P.S. Happy Halloween weekend everyone! Get out there and have fun. If there was ever a time to be a savory character… this is it!
You knew they were made for each other when they stepped on the dance floor and performed Dirty Dancing’s final scene as their first dance, with bridesmaids and best men in tow. I don’t know many men that would be willing to take lessons for months and not only play along but have fun doing it. I may never get married but I love LOVE in all its forms and there was plenty of it going around Sunday. Love of family, love of friends, love of lovers. It doesn’t get much better than that.
Congrats to the newlyweds! I’m so happy you found each other and may you always find your way back to the dance floor.
The holidays seem to be a time of melancholy for many, even at the best of times. This year is no exception… in fact it is the rule. I thought I might sneak past the nostalgia, bump the long line of sadness and roll right into the ho-ho-ho of the holidays scot free. But it turns out, there’s just no escaping those firsts that first year. The 1st week apart, 1st month, 1st summer, fall, spring, winter and all the memories associated with each season, 1st birthday (his and yours), 1st Valentine’s Day, Easter, Thanksgiving, Halloween, Christmas, New Year’s (ouch, that one’s gonna hurt) and all the 365 days that make up that 1st year.
But though these holidays sit under a melancholy cloud, I don’t feel like I need an umbrella or a snowbrella for that matter… this cloud won’t burst. How could it when I am surrounded by so much love?
My sister said “ain’t no sister of mine gonna be depressed during the holidays” so she and my mom came over last weekend to help me decorate. Saturday morning, after espresso and muffins at one of my favorite cafés, we went down Parc Avenue, bought a 6-foot tree and walked it home. Mom was all giddy, saying this is what you do in the city, you walk your tree home. She’s so cute and her joy is contagious. When we got back, Michelle made homemade soy eggnog with rum and we set out to decorate my tree and my home, all the while listening to all sorts of Christmas songs on youTube.
Little moments. Pure joy.
Other things bringing me joy this season…
red winter berries against blue skies
walks on crunchy snow and rosy cheeks
catching the charlie brown christmas special on tv
the fairy district. what can i say, fairies like to hang out around here. you can’t see them but they leave their boots laying around the floor for me to pick up. and i’m all, hellooooo fairies, would you mind picking up after yourselves? and i’m pretty sure i hear giggles coming from the corners of the room.
and wilbur… always up to something
