Stranger
As he sat in the middle of the crowded terminal, nobody noticed him. His metal chair faced the main corridor with a view of a coffee shop and a few of the gates, each pulsing with people, all in a hurry. The throngs moved past him like the withered white leaves of a late August dandelion blown off the stem by a child.
There are people in the world who, if they saw him in that setting or at all would stop in their tracks. Some would let out a whoop, others would smile and hug him, and still others would break down in tears unable to believe their eyes. On this day, none of those people passed by and he was left alone. But he didn’t mind much. Instead a thought began to percolate, it came first as a feeling before his mind could wrangle it into something coherent.
He imagined the meals he’d shared where old and new friends alike sat him at the head of the table and served him first despite his objections, engrossed in his stories asking more and more questions until he felt they’d entered his world. With a coffee at his fingers he replayed the words of lovers past whose whispers of affection made him feel like the only man alive. The contrast he found in the midst of strangers stirred his soul. He desperately searched for another person among the crowds who appeared to also be experiencing a conscious moment no matter how liminal, but he could not find anyone and that is why this story is short. After a couple of minutes of searching he turned back to the thought tumbling around in his head that was slowly taking shape.
Sitting in the terminal he realized this is not a special circumstance, just that it is rare to confront it. Many if not most people live with this blessing and curse as they make their way. He began to look at each person as though he knew them with the same intimacy that he knows his own history. He imagined the massive fights, mountains climbed, and individuals loved by each hurried person as they passed. Rather than them noticing him, he noticed them. Then he stopped thinking so much about himself or yearning for anything in particular. His demeanor lightened and the chaos of the terminal slowed down for him.
The blessing is to know the love of another and the curse is to remember love even when it is absent. Reversing the curse depends on turning outward toward others. Circumstance lends itself to passing another human unaware of the gravity of their presence. There is something unnatural about this. If the statistics of a person’s life floated above their head would it be this way? Speed leaves the recognition of this phenomena below the surface of most people’s conscience. Only once one stops and recognizes the proximity of another without regard for their beauty or accomplishments are they themselves able to see their own humanity clearly.
Andrew Witt 