Glimpse

ONE: I watched an old African American man and a young Latino woman smiling and laughing while they spoke to each other in sign language across the crowded subway car I rode in on this morning. It was so beautiful. I almost missed my stop watching them.

TWO: I ride the yellow line to work, which is unique because at one point in its journey it begins to rise out of the ground and with blast of sunlight races out over the Potomac. For a few seconds there are birds, water, sky, a view of two cities joined by bridges, and then the car descends again, back into the tunnels and underneath the skyscrapers. I get the feeling I'm in a giant mechanical flying fish. Maybe it's childish, but love this part of the ride. I look forward to it.

THREE: I started cutting through a garage near our apartment on my walk to the metro station. There is a homeless man who sleeps there most nights. I pass twenty feet from him, listening to my iPod, almost every morning. I am ashamed to admit that yesterday I didn't cut through. I must not respond this way. I must respond differently.