Opening Through Close Calls
WHO KNEW THAT avoiding a crash could shatter assumptions?
Photo by Benjamin Lehman via Unsplash
I've always been known as a fast walker. As many “sole-weary” friends from out of town will tell you, I’ve completely exhausted more than one person trying to keep up with me. Living in New York City, my speedy feet are often called upon to dodge and weave with precision as I navigate city streets to arrive at my destination on time. I don’t always walk full throttle, though. When I’m strolling solo, I have a pretty reliable pace that I can modulate from Take-it-easy to Turbo in less time than an Aspark Owl (thanks, Google). That Turbo setting is only used on an “as needed” basis, or when I feel like I need a little spark in my step.
The thing about speed though, is it has an inverse relationship to taking in the world we are walking through. Once our tipping point is reached in velocity, the view becomes a blur. We can miss a lot.
Just the other day I was heading down 2nd Avenue, trying to make up some lost time on my way to an appointment. Between spending many months on crutches and seeing loved ones with steadiness-on-their-feet challenges, I try to keep an eye out not to whiz too closely past another person, possibly causing a pedestrian pileup. Admittedly, accomplishing this is harder these days, now that so many of us walk (or suddenly stop in the middle of the sidewalk) distracted, engrossed in our phones.
Over halfway to my destination, my path entered the dreaded challenge to all purpose-driven urban perambulators: scaffolding. There’s a lot less room to negotiate space when you are hemmed in by scaffolds on either side. Looking far ahead, I noticed an aide pushing a wheelchair. The woman in the chair sat slouched, her body tilted over to her left at a stark angle. Her face was slack, her mouth dropping, and her eyes vacant. They were still a distance away, but it was clear we were coming straight toward each other. Taking all the other pedestrians into account, there weren’t a lot of other places either of us could go. We weren’t in danger of colliding per se, but it seemed to me that our passing could have felt especially jarring because I’d be on her left side when our paths crossed. I prepared myself to adjust my pace and move around them. Before I could though, the woman, who I’d thought was completely unaware of her surroundings, sat bolt upright to avoid me.
The moment was so affirming. I had seen her and thought she was barely able to sense her surroundings, but I was so wrong. She knew exactly where she was and was able to navigate her own course. She modulated before I did.
Who’s the Aspark Owl now?
We can’t know what potential lives inside of another by simply summing up what we see (or think we see) on the outside. That moment on the sidewalk uplifted me (still does). Realizing how alive the woman was… filled me with joy and excitement. I am grateful to her. I don’t know how she felt because, seconds later, we passed silently on our respective paths, transitioning to each other’s rear view mirror, so to speak. What I do know, is that after a moment of surprise, my perception of her and my expression changed—into a huge smile. I hope she saw it and knew it was for her.