An Act of Kindness

I had an odd experience today. I pulled into Walmart in Brooklyn to pick up a few things. I parked more or less where I always park in this particular Walmart. We are creatures of habit, after all. I got out of my car, locked the door, and turned to the building. Then I noticed the car next to me. In the front passenger’s seat was a very old woman with her face in her hands. I paused for a moment, wondering if she was OK? Wondering if I should ask? Wondering if I would just be butting in where I’m not welcome?

Fuck it. I can’t see another human being in discomfort and not be moved to action.

I tapped gently on her window until she looked up. She didn’t look like she had been crying, so I just asked her, through the door window, if she was OK. She smiled and said that, Yes. She was OK. So I smiled back and left.

Why did I hesitate? Why did I first feel compelled to say nothing and walk away without at least seeing if she was OK? And more perplexing, why did I decide not to? Why did I decide to get involved? Even the very act of asking someone if they are OK is itself an act of kindness. And obligation. 

We can all manage that, certainly.