Scene: Dusk. Me, outside washing my car in the driveway, which crosses completely across the sidewalk. A passerby approaches.
—–
THE WAY IT COULD HAVE GONE…
Passerby: Rude! I have a disability, you know.
Me: Easy, lady. I’m just washing my car.
Passerby: Well, you should think more about other people.
Me: Whatever, You don’t know a thing about me.
Passerby: Jerk.
Me: Weirdo.
—–
THE WAY IT WENT…
Passerby: Rude! I have a disability, you know.
Me: (Standing up straight, rag at my side) I’m sorry.
Passerby: I’ve already been hit by a car once from walking in the road.
Me: Oh no. I’m sorry that happened.
Passerby: (silent)
Me: (smiling)
Passerby: I’m retired, you know. I used to be a teacher.
Me: Really? I’m a counselor.
Passerby: In Oakland?
Me: Yes. Merritt College.
Passerby: I went to Merritt! Early Childhood Education. Long time ago.
Me: Still one of our most popular degrees.
Passerby: Well… then, thank you for your service.
Me: And thank you for being a teacher.
Passerby: (smile)
Me: (smile)
—–
How often do we miss these wonderful, hidden moments simply because of the way things started?
How hard is it to give up the upper hand, to bow down a little, so two people on a sidewalk can smile?
Why are we so damn afraid of each other?
Especially the people we don’t know.