The little shore road.
Here I was, walking along the shore road today on my way to a new little beach I had just discovered, in my own little solitary world, content as could be, and feeling assured that no one could possibly disturb my silence. Wrong. A car pulled along side me, and I am certain that I’m going to be asked for directions. Wrong again. A rather robust, elderly white hair man, probably in his early sixties, welcoming smile, opens his window.
“Excuse me Madam, but are you all right? Do you need any assistance.?”
“I’m fine.”
“Yes, you’re taking a walk. I just wanted to help if you needed it.”
I smiled, and much to my surprise, blurted out, “You’re just doing God’s work.”
He grinned back and off he went, few minutes later driving by, waving and calling out, “Have a good day.”
What was that all about--this elderly gentleman with New Hampshire license plates? He wasn’t even local. I never felt he had anything but good intentions, and let’s face it, I get offered seats on the T all the time, and I sure didn't look like I had a penny to my name.
Here I am, longing for solitude, basking in the quiet, feeding the introvert in me. And along comes this stranger, longing for human connection, looking for ways to energize the extrovert in him. I sense that we both got what we wanted and needed. Strange how silence and solitude can be reinforced by some simple human exchange on a little shore road.
“Excuse me Madam, but are you all right? Do you need any assistance.?”
“I’m fine.”
“Yes, you’re taking a walk. I just wanted to help if you needed it.”
I smiled, and much to my surprise, blurted out, “You’re just doing God’s work.”
He grinned back and off he went, few minutes later driving by, waving and calling out, “Have a good day.”
What was that all about--this elderly gentleman with New Hampshire license plates? He wasn’t even local. I never felt he had anything but good intentions, and let’s face it, I get offered seats on the T all the time, and I sure didn't look like I had a penny to my name.
Here I am, longing for solitude, basking in the quiet, feeding the introvert in me. And along comes this stranger, longing for human connection, looking for ways to energize the extrovert in him. I sense that we both got what we wanted and needed. Strange how silence and solitude can be reinforced by some simple human exchange on a little shore road.