both are rewarding in the end
I met a man while on the train home last night.
It was almost 8 p.m. and had been a long day. I was reading The Word, for an assignment at work. He asked about it. Asked if I was a writer. It was nice to say yes. He builds trusses. I wish now that I had asked him more about it. When I commented on how our work was very different, he said "I work physically, you work mentally. But both are rewarding in the end." I liked that. He was rotund and looked a bit weathered, but had a kind, round face and a happy smile. If he has many troubles in the world—he's human, why wouldn't he?—he has a talent of not showing them on his face and seeing only the good. I wonder where he is from. And if he has children. And if he is really doing what he likes. He mentioned that he was pleased with his work, when I asked if he liked what he did, because it helped him to meet the goals of paying the bills and having work. But he didn't seem unhappy that that was what it did for him.
He eventually asked what I was currently writing about. I'm not sure why, but I went on to explain the in-depth piece about dance that I am working on right now. He looked a bit confused by the end, but nodded his head and smiled and told me he was sure it would be great. And as he got up and said good-bye and stood by the opening doors he turned and asked "When will your article run?" I told him in the next few weeks, hopefully. And he smiled and simply said, "Well, I'll be looking out for it."
I never asked his name and he didn't ask mine. But somehow I know, when that dance article runs, no matter how little he can relate to it, it will be read by one kind, truss-building man who lives somewhere near Murray.
I know he is a good man, even if we only talked for a total of 4 minutes. Someday, I'd like to see him again and just thank him. For being him.
It was almost 8 p.m. and had been a long day. I was reading The Word, for an assignment at work. He asked about it. Asked if I was a writer. It was nice to say yes. He builds trusses. I wish now that I had asked him more about it. When I commented on how our work was very different, he said "I work physically, you work mentally. But both are rewarding in the end." I liked that. He was rotund and looked a bit weathered, but had a kind, round face and a happy smile. If he has many troubles in the world—he's human, why wouldn't he?—he has a talent of not showing them on his face and seeing only the good. I wonder where he is from. And if he has children. And if he is really doing what he likes. He mentioned that he was pleased with his work, when I asked if he liked what he did, because it helped him to meet the goals of paying the bills and having work. But he didn't seem unhappy that that was what it did for him.
He eventually asked what I was currently writing about. I'm not sure why, but I went on to explain the in-depth piece about dance that I am working on right now. He looked a bit confused by the end, but nodded his head and smiled and told me he was sure it would be great. And as he got up and said good-bye and stood by the opening doors he turned and asked "When will your article run?" I told him in the next few weeks, hopefully. And he smiled and simply said, "Well, I'll be looking out for it."
I never asked his name and he didn't ask mine. But somehow I know, when that dance article runs, no matter how little he can relate to it, it will be read by one kind, truss-building man who lives somewhere near Murray.
I know he is a good man, even if we only talked for a total of 4 minutes. Someday, I'd like to see him again and just thank him. For being him.
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