Surprisingly this morning, the G AND the A train came as soon as I stepped on the platform. But I still managed to keep a sleepy face, grumpy at myself for not focusing this week. I try to wear items to motivate me – my necklace from Peru, my short hair, my tattoos. I even brought my ‘Starry Night’ bag to work today even though my other bag matched better.
Still, I waded in my self-pity. As I stepped onto the train, I sat next to this old man. He stared at me and I took him to be a perverted old man (for they infest the area I live in.) Playing off body language, I leaned against the window, closed my eyes and turned my body so as to not invite any comments.
Yet, I could see him trying to make eye contact. And as a weakness, I do not have the ability to ignore stranger’s eye contact. He leaned in closer to make it clear he was talking to me and said, with a smirk on his face, pointing to my bag:
“It’s a shame that you took a van Gogh and cut it up into a bag.”
I was so taken aback by the innocence and the humour of it all that all I could do was laugh. The entire train ride to High Street I smiled. As I left we exchanged “Have a good day”’s and I beamed. After bouncing along for a few blocks, I suddenly was overcome with tears and wishing I knew my grandfather better, wishing I had more of that old man humour in my life, and that him and I could listen to “Un Bel dì Vedremo” from Madama Butterfly together and bask in the glory of Puccini.
The only things that are certain are life and death, smiling and tears.
oh and taxes.
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