mucho amore: the kindness of strangers

dear all the people i didn't know i would get to meet when i woke up yesterday morning...

first of all, thank you. and, when you stop and think about it, i'm so glad the day was wonky so that we could meet each other in space and time.  

roadside assistance operator, i can tell you are smiling when, after i say the make and model of my car (smoke billowing out from beneath the hood) you ask, "is it blue?" because even though you work in another country, you remember me from the rescue call last month.  thank you for finding a nearby mechanic for me, again.

tow-truck driver, you are singing loudly and with great gusto as you strap my vehicle in for the ride and grinning widely despite missing your front teeth. when i ask why you are singing, you point to your phone and, in broken english, say that you love your wife so much, you can't help singing to her over speaker phone while you work.  you are covered in grease and i think i have not recently seen a more happy person anywhere than you are right at this moment.  you show me a picture of her and tell me that she is very beautiful.  i agree with you.  as you move your soda bottles and cigarettes off the passenger seat for me you say again, "yes, my wife, she is so so very beautiful.  i sing.  mucho amore".

lady running the front desk at the mechanic, i can tell you care about the lounge waiting area here at the gas station, as it is clean with new throw pillows in complementary pops of color, an array of coffee choices, and magazines ranging from birding to country cabins (and People because, well, admit it, who doesn't love some visual junk food now and then). realizing i may be here for quite a while, thank you for talking with me about birds while my car is diagnosed.  i love that you have a motion-sensor bird (gift from a customer) that sings and flaps its lego-like wings and that you take time to tell me about the exotic birds you saw on your trip to costa rica and show me pictures of your top two favorites from the birding tour.  we both agree there are two types of people in the world, birders and everyone else.  you have kind eyes and in between telling me how much you love your daughter and your boyfriend you finally have to turn the motion-sensor button on the bird off because it is annoying your colleagues.  but you make it move one more time for me and we share a hearty laugh and you ask what my favorite birds are and i say it's a toss-up between northern flickers and pileated woodpeckers.  as if on cue the first geese of the season honk overhead on their way south. which are also my favorites because they're Canadian and i miss my relatives and you understand this.  

to the busy mechanic that my car descends upon without an appointment.  you make time to take a look at it so quickly and order the necessary parts almost before i can remember to retrieve my overnight bag from the back seat.  you will have it fixed and ready to go well before the estimated time despite having dozens of customers, phone calls, emails, and invoices going on simultaneously.  i can tell your clients must also really appreciate you because i notice they are dropping by just to visit and also to bring you 'everything bagels' which is a sure and uniting sign of love in carbohydrate form whether you drive a Nissan, Prius, Outback, or Dodge Durango.   

waitress with the curly hair and glasses at the Hawaiian restaurant.  without a car,  i walk across the highway to a rather abandoned and exceedingly long strip-mall with shop after dilapidated shop closed with posters reading "visit our relocation".  this is the only food, like an oasis in an otherwise extinct shopping desert, within walking distance and when i open the door and come in you are cheerful and seem so incredibly and genuinely glad to see me that i feel as though i am on the island of Oahu all over again.  i ask your favorite menu item and you say "the salmon teriyaki" also the first thing my eye fell on, which decides it.  when you bring it to my table with coconut water and generous portions of both rice and mac salad, you thank me for waiting, to which i thank you for taking time to make my lunch, to which you thank me for having such a joyful attitude, going back and forth in this little mutual admiration society way even though we've never met and likely won't again.  songs about island life are playing on the radio and it not only fills but relaxes my body and soul while i contemplate the next problem-solving step in, without wheels, how to get my dad safely and comfortably home in a timely fashion from the hospital where he's just had a surgical procedure.

reservationist, we discover when you're taking my information, that not only are we a smith and a jones, but we share the same birthday.  i'm quite a bit older than you are, but what are the chances? we agree summer birthdays are the best and you take time to say you hope my dad is ok and that you'll find a just-right car to get us home in as soon as possible.   

rental car staff, i'm considering trying to walk to your location, but you say it's definitely not safe to do so even though it's doable distance-wise.  one of your staff members insists on picking me up at the mechanic during his lunch break and takes me to where you can get the last-minute vehicle cleaned and ready (and you transport me again when my car is fixed)  i love learning that your father was a master of Chilean wines and talking about new-to-me wine varietals from around the world while you take the backroads during afternoon traffic.  thank you for placing a fresh, hot cup of coffee into my hands once back at the office.

dear lady waiting next to me in the black vinyl seats for a rental car after your car has been totaled.  you are still stiff from the wreck, so i scoot over so you don't have to turn to the right, as it is straining your neck.  thank you for telling me about your kids and grandkids and how you are grateful to be alive not only after the accident, but that you are coming up on your one-year of cancer surgery survivor hood on September 2nd.  and how when you were first diagnosed you spent time together as a family at the beach which you remember as a beautiful terrible time because it compressed everything into a crystalline appreciation of mortality.  and that because of this it was easier to forgive the kid who turned into you and was afraid of telling his parents the truth and so he lied to the officer and said you were speeding, but the officer knew you weren't because you were stopped at a light and it just gave you compassion for this kid who was a new driver and in shock and afraid of getting in trouble all at the same time.  by now, but it's been less than ten minutes,  the rental car gentleman feels like he is interrupting old friends when he comes over to tell us our vehicles are both ready.  safe travels and many more years of health to you on your anniversary of health next Monday.

i'm glad you're still here, too.

you and every single one of you.

mucho amore,

lanette