The end of the line.

Urban wildflowers

On Saturday morning I usually go to the greenmarket in McCarren Park to buy beautiful onions and apples and carrots and sometimes some juice. This past Saturday I stopped off at the laundromat/postal center on Bedford to mail off some galleys to friends. Then I got a coffee at Oslo. Then I ran to the deli to get some soy milk. It was not even 10 AM and already I had a deep sense of accomplishment even though these tasks were minor.

As I walked back down Bedford toward my bike I could see it had fallen over. I felt bad for my bike. Like I felt a deep emotional thrust toward this inanimate object. Usually when I see bikes that have fallen I stop and right them. It's not like there's any great damage being done to them while they are down, but it seems mildly humiliating, and potentially asking for trouble. It's just a bike! I know! Whatever. Shut up.

So just as I reached the corner across the street from where my bike is parked, a woman passes my bike, notices it on the ground, and then walks back and picks it up! And then starts to walk off. I burst into this huge grin and yelled, "You are the nicest person ever. That was my bike. Thank you."

And she turned and smiled and said, "I just hate to see a bike down."

"Me too!" I said.

That's it. That's the whole story. I kept meaning to tell people about it but I forgot. I got wrapped in some stupid personal shit that I think is finally over and it was all I could talk about for days, angry, frustrated, exhausted, and I forgot about the nice thing I saw, that kind person, who did the right thing.

It was a good long walk this morning.

(09/24/09)