A Beautiful Day

It was a cold day. The sidewalks were icy, and the dark gray skies were threatening snow, so it’s no surprise that the subway was more crowded than normal. I usually avoid public transportation at all costs due to the crowds, germs, and confined spaces, but at least the cold weather gave me an excuse to wear gloves while I commute. I stand looking out the window as we pull up to the next stop and I notice an older woman walking along the train car. Both her coat and her facial expression seem inappropriately bright in the sea of dark wool and grumpy morning commuters. It was standing room only and she took hold of the grab bar next to me.

She must have picked up on my bad mood because she looked at me and smiled. I give her a little half smile and tried to look away, attempting to stop what I knew was coming next. Damn it, why didn’t I bring my headphones.

“Beautiful day we’re having,” she said sounding so genuine I was slightly taken aback.

Against my better judgement I responded, “Oh yea, real great,” with a heavy dose of sarcasm and an eye roll, to dissuade her from furthering the conversation.

Undeterred, the woman continued, “C’mon, you can’t live here and not appreciate it… the crisp winter air, the beauty of fresh snowfall, and an excuse to stay inside drinking hot tea while binging your favorite show?”

“I only stay here because of my job. Life is hard enough without the weather making it more difficult,” I replied with more cynicism than I had intended.

She gave a soft, empathetic smile, “days like this are what make sunny summer days so much better. When I lived in California, it was too easy to take it for granted. You need a storm every so often to really be able to appreciate the blue skies.”

She can’t be serious, can she? The train car was packed to the brim and there was no escaping her eager, albeit unwelcomed advice. “Hardly,” I scoffed, “I’ve lived through enough winters to know if I never saw another snowflake, I’d be fine with it. Crossing town this afternoon to get to the hospital is going to be hard enough on a tight schedule without this weather.”

There, that should end the conversation, I thought to myself, feeling a little rude but mostly justified. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to talk to people on public transportation.

No luck. She pressed on. “Oh, that does sound tough. Hopefully it isn’t something serious causing you to go.”

Her sincerity was disarming. She must have been a therapist or guidance counselor or something.

“It’s not for me. It’s for my mom.” I said in a gentler tone, my mother is a soft spot for me. “She had cancer a while back and they need to run some follow up tests from her last blood work.”

“Sorry to hear that. Your mom is lucky to have a daughter like you nearby to help her. Do you get to spend much time together?” she asked.

I was about to respectfully request she mind her own business, but I realized my mom and I hadn’t spent much time together lately and the last of my annoyance was replaced with a pang of regret. “No, not lately,” I said somberly, “not as much as I’d like.”

“Ah, well, that’s understandable. It’s easy to let the weeks go by when the days are so hectic. I hope you enjoy your time together this afternoon, I’m sure she appreciates you.” She said, maintaining her kind smile.

In fact, since my mother’s cancer had gone into remission, we hadn’t spent much time together at all. Though her health had improved, it was still hard for her to get around, so she isn’t able to make it to the kids’ events and weekends are so busy we haven’t gone to see her as often as we intend. While she was in treatment, I sat with her several times a week for hours at a time. Looking back, I realized it was the most uninterrupted time we’d spent together in years. On good days we’d have lively conversations about all sorts of topics. Sometimes she would tell stories, many of which I had already heard but could appreciate more now that I was an adult with children of my own. She told me about all the things she wanted to do if she got better. Plant a vegetable garden, join a book club, travel all over Asia. On bad days I would read to her, or we would just sit in silence, holding hands. It was nice, given the circumstances, and I hadn’t realized how much I had enjoyed that time together.

When her treatment was over, we kept up a weekly lunch for a while, but other things began taking priority and eventually it fell to monthly and lately not at all. It was easy to take time away from work when she was sick, but somehow it’s harder to justify now that she is doing better.

I took out my phone and sent my mother a text:

Hey, mom. Hope you’re having a good morning. Are you up for grabbing lunch together before your appointment today?

I turned to thank the woman for her unexpected, and certainly undeserved kindness, but she must have already gotten off the train because her bright coat was nowhere in sight.

My stop was next, so I exited the train and made my way through the sea of people up the stairs to ground level. As I pushed through the double doors to the sidewalk, I felt my phone vibrate. I look to see my mom’s response:

Of course, honey, I would love to. See you soon. - xo mom

I looked up at the gray skies, took a deep breath of fresh, crisp winter air, and smiled. Maybe it’s not such a bad day after all.