I see my brother Michael in the oddest places. Yesterday it was at the grocery store checkout in a fella with cigarette vocals who laughed too loud. You know the type. They’ve seen some shit, they’ve probably done some shit, but not so much shit they’ve lost their humanity. He offered me his shopping cart after he saw I had too many bags to carry alone and wished me a Merry Christmas. As a joyless, masked staffer scanned his loaf of white Rainbo bread and 12 pack of Bud Light, he joked for everyone to hear, “it’s okay! I don’t mind cutting off my circulation carrying my groceries to the car!”
I ducked my head in partial embarrassment and to hide a tide of tears threatening to spill out in a supermarket at the wrong time on the wrong side of town.
I glanced back to murmor a ‘thanks’ and ‘Merry Christmas’ half hoping and half afraid I’d see Michael in his eyes. In a way, he was there, in that small (albeit loud) act of kindness to a self-absorbed stranger.
The shopping cart rattled on the pavement giving perfect cover for my trembling. I gripped the rusted steel tight wishing I had been kinder while I had the chance.