Cla-clink. Cla-clink. Cla-clink. 'What on earth is that noise?' I think to myself. While frantically looking around the school parking lot, past cars sheeted with fresh snow, I find a young man. A slightly tall, awkward young man struggling to walk on the icy pavement, one hand supporting a crutch under his arm and the other pulling the cheesiest rolling backpack I may have ever seen. But for some reason, I felt so compelled to help. Because that's who I am and I'm not ashamed to admit that — even though some days I am.
As I was having a battle in my head with myself, I decided to walk over and offer up my help. "Can I help you brush off your car?" I asked. His response? "I would love it if you could help!" Which was accompanied by one of the biggest smiles I have ever seen.
Turns out, because of his hurt leg, he could no longer use his stick-shift car so he was using his brother's car. His 'extremely unprepared brother' (his words, not mine) did not have a brush for this first 'official' snowfall in our beautiful mitten state. He was contemplating how he would even clean the car of that beautiful fluffy white stuff as I had approached. Have I ever mentioned how sad I find it when snow is disrupted? I love that it's so full and glittering and peaceful. I wish we never had to drive or walk through it and we could look at its beauty all day.
Anyway, we made small chit chat while I brushed off his car for him. He was mostly just in shock that someone was willing to take time out of their day to help him. I find this to be extremely saddening, too. Why can't we all show love? Every day? Every moment? It's so easy to do. And so rewarding. And that's how I want my life to be. Forever.
As I began to walk away he blurted out, "I'm Zach by the way!" I walked back to shake his hand (when did I become proper?) and introduced myself. He said how nice it was to meet me and wished me the happiest of Thanksgivings, with a slight bit of sadness in his eyes. And in seconds, we were off. Going our separate ways in the world, never knowing if those worlds would collide again.
Zach? Zack? I wanted to ask but knew it was not important. Why do we lose moments? Why do we allow ourselves to miss so many moments?
I could've asked him what kind of stick-shift car he had. I could've gone into how I've always wanted to learn how to drive a stick shift (on a side note, I sort of have I guess – thanks, Greg!). I wanted to ask what he had done to his leg. I wanted to ask if he was in pain. If he needed help with anything else.
I felt a strange connection. As if we had been friends for years and were just clicking back into our routine. Zach/k is someone I have never seen in my life and may never see again, as far as I know.
How is it that complete strangers, those who don't know my life story, my quirks, or my downfalls, see so much more in me than the closest people to me in my life?
And why does this keep happening to me lately? What are you trying to tell me, God? These words. The ones that keep spilling out of me must mean something. I don't know what to make of this 'something'.
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