Soft hands on a Monday morning.
On the subway this morning, completely engrossed in the book I was reading, I reached out to grab hold of one of the bars, and instead grabbed firmly onto a woman’s hand.
Embarrassed, I quickly let go, looked up, smiled sheepishly, and apologized.
She smiled warmly, said it was ok, and went back to her thoughts.
And suddenly, all I wanted was to hold her hand for the rest of our brief commute together.
I’ve had the same feeling before when a stranger either does or says something kind and understanding in a situation like that. For me, it’s like a combination of relief, and sadness, too, because I know I’ll probably never see this very nice person again, and even if I did run into them again, I probably would’t recognize them.
A similar thing happened to me yesterday during my commute home on the E. I was nodding off, only to be awakened when my head bobbed and hit the shoulder of the man sitting next to me. When I apologized profusely, he just smiled and said, “No problem.” Good thing I wasn’t drooling, or I’m sure his response wouldn’t have been so friendly.