(I wrote this back in 2020, before Covid and before I began to work from home full time but it still resonates every time I am ‘in town’ – ml)
I have been thinking a lot about Time lately, it’s something you do when you get on the high side of 60 and realize that you have more memories in the rearview than you do in the headlights.
Yesterday I left work exactly at 4:00 pm. I try to do this every workday, carefully mapping out my walk to the William St. entrance to Rideau Station (6 minutes or exactly one Phillip Morris Original ahem) so I arrive in time to catch the 16:10 for Tunney’s Station. This is critical as my train arrives at Tunney’s at 16:19 and my (sometimes) trusty 258 Grandview leaves at 16:22.
The 258 is a whole other story, often leaving at 16:20 or 16:21, or 16:19 or simply sailing through the bus stop depending on the mood of the driver. Missing the 16:22 means waiting for the 16:52, which on more than one occasion simply evaporated, leaving me an hour wait in a minus 20 bus shelter.
You get the picture, Time can be critical, although Time has also taught me the patience to not yell out what I think of a bus that leaves ahead of schedule or point my middle digit at the tailights of the 258.
Getting back to yesterday, I left the office at 4:00 pm precisely, lobby by 4:01, flared up and I was off.
About a block from William Street I was actually ahead of the game, 4:04. And then it happened…
The stoop of the Dollarama on Rideau has two steps up from the street with an outward opening door. More than once I have caught my trusty messenger bag on the door, half-pinning myself against the plate glass window. In a word, getting into the Dollarama is a PITA to say the least (though the staff inside are very friendly and come highly recommended).
As I walked past I noticed a young lady, bundled up against the elements, trying to wrestle a large baby stroller (complete with swaddled and very cute wee one!) up the stoop and around the door from H-E-double-hockey-sticks! Around the lady a wave of people surged, all either intent on the cell phone their eyes were glued to or grumbling about the inconvenience of having to step two steps to the side to get around this ‘annoyance’.
I checked the Time and sighed. I knew what was coming next and the possibility of another half hour in a bus shelter at the end of a long and exhausting week, but dang it Dad taught me right.
Flipping my satchel to the back I slipped around the lady and swung the door open and away from the front end of the stroller. The lady looked up at me and gave me a very tired but thankful smile. The front wheels on the stroller were a little discombobulted so a gentleman inside the entrance zipped over and helped swing the front end into the store. All done in 30 seconds.
I have to admit I felt pretty good about it, keeping the door open as an elderly lady followed the young mom and even a millennial chap, though he didn’t even look up from his phone.
With a smile I swung my satchel back over my shoulder and hurried up the street to the train station. As it turned out the train was a minute late and surprise of surprises so was my 258!
All the way from Tunney’s to my home stop I thought about the young lady with the baby in the oversized stroller. Did she find what she was looking for? Was there someone at the door to help her back down the stoop to the street? And I thought of all the people who simply sailed past her at the door to the Dollarama, too wrapped in their own world to notice someone else in need.
I hope so, I would hate to think the young lady ended up struggling with the door, a tired baby and Friday night in a sometimes unsavory area of the city.
If you see someone around you in need, lend a hand, please…
Take the Time, it’s really all you’ve got.
Mark
(original image by Surprising_Media at pixabay.com)