Tuesdays are for Trivia. Today I needed to leave early. Not because I had something planned, just because I needed to.
There was tugging at my heart telling me to run. Past the place where James and I had ice cream on our last date. Run because 'wouldn't it be fucking annoying to just miss the train and have to wait a full twenty-two minutes for the next one?" I needed to make THIS train. I bolted down three tiers of stairs. My brain flashing images of missteps that lead to me eating it on yellow serrated concrete; consequently missing this train (zero concern for my face).
HOP card in hand, I glided through the gates. While my jog felt fluid and it was only somewhat effortless. Breathlessly I searched for the closet seat with the least amount of human contact (but also facing the direction the train was moving). I found the perfect seat right where I stepped on, next to the window, facing the direction of movement, no rows in front of me, with no one behind me for two rows, and no one in the adjacent seats. Little did I know I would be filling the adjacent seats.
When my breath had finally caught, I could not ignore the sound that came from across the train car.
Like a hiccup but harder; holding more pain.
I needed to comfort her. To hold all her pieces that had just been dropped.
I did not mean to but I think I touched her shoulder without any warning.
Mr. Hill Jr. (one of my high school English teachers) once said something along the lines of: "There is nothing more beautiful than when a girl smiles through big crocodile tears". I need to be here now to make her smile like that. To smile through her pain and know she was not alone. She was ashamed of the tears she was fighting in such a public place.
"It's okay to cry." Her shoulders shook harder under my hand.
After a few minutes, her sobs subsided and she told me that she missed her mom but when she called her mother she was greeted with criticism and condemnation. I understood it must be hard to miss someone so much and have them not reciprocate; unrequited motherly love (because there are other equally important types of love other than your everyday romantic love). She asked if my mother was the same and I admitted just the opposite; my mother wants to be my friend not my mom. That was beside the point. I wanted to give her space to breath out all the pain; space to heal. She continued. Her mother was real flesh and blood darkness that told her, all her accomplishments were not good enough.
"We can't changes our moms. We can only choose to live our lives around them in a way that makes us happy. Occasionally, we can compromise for them but we should never sacrifice our happiness for them."
My stop came too soon. She assured me her roommate was waiting with a bottle of wine and that she had support. I can not remember if we hugged. Only that I got off at my stop and left her with a smile. I felt elated like I had a superpower; the superpower of kindness or maybe comfort.
Maybe not on our worst days but on any other days, we have the power to give that extra that makes someone's day extraordinary. We have the choice to stop being a bystander and participate in making a change. I won't ever change the world but I know that I have left the people I have met better. That is why I am here. I am here to love and leave you better than how I found you.