A Subway Moment

On the subway this morning, an old (though probably younger than he looked) man with a walker was by a pole in the middle of the car. He looked very, very fragile and disengaged, and the plastic bags tied to his walker seemed to hold his belongings. As we traveled, he slowly, slowly settled himself until he was leaning against a bar of the walker, almost sitting, with the walker against the pole. He looked so precarious I held my breath, but he was OK (in the context of not being OK). I went back to my gazing or reading.

At a stop, someone said something attention-getting; I looked up. Twice a man blocked the subway doors so they wouldn't close. This is an irritant to NYC subway riders, but then I saw he was keeping the doors from closing on the man with the walker, who was inching his way out of the next set of doors down, unaware of the stranger protecting him. It took my breath away and I sort of fell in love with the man who was paying attention and did the right thing. It was exquisite, and so sad.