As I made my way to a work shift that was to start just as the world seemed to be heading home, I found myself waiting for the bus next to a young mother who frantically tried to fold her stroller, baby in her arms, so that she could board the bus. While I couldn't manage to fold her stroller (has it been that long for me, or was I never good at that to begin with?), I carried the folded buggy on to the bus, and held it next to me while she held the baby in her arms. I wondered, would she get help if I had to get off before she did? Would any of these people heading home look up from their phones long enough even to realize that she needed help? And if they didn't, could you blame them, many of them carrying their own burdens, eager to get home to their own families?
As it turned out, she got off at the same stop as I did. Gingerly, I got the stroller down the bus aisle and off of the bus, bruising only a few knees. And as I hurried to make the train that would get me to work on time, I saw the mother working to unfold the stroller, baby in her arms, so that she could continue her journey.
As I finished my trip, I thought about how stressed I had been about my own journey, and how "babysitting" the stroller had allowed me to focus on something--and someone--else, just for a little while. The mother had to get somewhere with the small baby and the big stroller, and she believed that somehow, with or without help, she could do it. I suppose that we are all in that situation--we do what we have to do, and make the leap that we can handle it, either with help, or simply with sheer will. And every so often, there is someone to help us up the stairs, through the doors, along the journey. So that we can hold tight onto the sometimes very small things that are really important.
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