Touching

Something amazing happened to me today, on the subway.

I was listening to a song by "The Weepies" from a mix that arrived in the mail from my good friend Jane. It is titled "gotta have you". I sat on the train, deep in thought, listening to this song. I was thinking of how much it reminded me of the way I feel about my attachment to Stephen. This reminded me of true love, real love, selfless love. That made me think of Stephen's grandmother, Elsie. Which inevitably brought to mind his grandfather, Bill, who has always treated me like his own granddaughter and gives me whiskery kisses on my cheek whenever I see him. I thought of Angie and Morrison and Mary and Larry and Mom and Dad and my Gram. The tears in my eyes started to well up and spill over and down my cheeks. I hid my eyes with my hand so that my fellow commuters would not have to witness my emotional moment. I was crying full blast pretty soon. I have no idea why I was crying, really. I was thinking of people whom I love and cherish and who have become such incredible examples to me in my life. They were really tears of joy mixed with the nostalgia of missed loved ones. I sat there, tears flowing and nose running, tried to snuffle in the privacy of my self imposed invisibility.

We arrived in Brooklyn. As we pulled into the station I raised my head to look out the window to make sure we were where I thought we were. Yep, one more stop to go. I put my head back down. A moment later a folded piece of white paper appeared on my lap. I looked up just in time to see the girl, who had been sitting across from me, leaving the train. I opened the little square of paper and read, "It will get better. Keep your chin up!" with a tiny flower drawn in the upper right hand corner. I immediately smiled, and stopped crying. That girl will never know what her small, sweet gesture did for me. It gave me courage. What she did was so brave, so empathetic and touching. Somehow it didn't even matter that I had not been crying out of frustration or grief, I was so touched by her thoughtfulness that all I could think about was my foolish assumptions of invisibility.

I have come to expect so little of others, to return their gazes as though they were not there. New Yorkers have this ability to look through you, not at you. I have acquired this habit as well. Looking into so many hundreds of eyes, for me, is overwhelming. I assume everyone else does the same. Which is why I spend most of my days in incessant anonymity. My mysterious note writer has given me the courage to start looking into a few eyes. To become visible by acknowledging the visibility of those around me. Thank you mystery girl, for seeing me and reaching out. Your gesture has not gone unappreciated.


This is someone else who has always seen me and I have never been able to be invisible around. I love this picture. Mostly because of the way Megan is looking at Michael. Ah, true love. Touching.