night at the laundromat

Last night I went to the laundromat. Even though I have a standing offer to do laundry at my landlord's house in his new eco-friendly washing machine, which is about 10 steps out my front door, I like going to the laundromat sometimes. Every time I have gone it seems it has been raining. Which, for San Diego, is actually 3 of the 3 times it has rained since I moved here 4 months ago. I like it because it gets me out in amongst strangers in public (like going to the movies); I actually like doing laundry; and because I actually like waiting...like waiting for and riding a bus or train, waiting in line at the post office, taking my breaks at work. I savor moments of times that are limited in their span but don't allow for much else than people watching or reading short articles or a few pages of a novel or just day dreaming and musing. I love those times. So, the laundromat is ideal for me. This time 'round, last night, I took the opportunity to get pizza down the street at Luigi's AND a Sprite from the vending machine. I sat in my car ('cuz it was rainy and there is nowhere to sit inside the laundromat except the laundry baskets on wheels) and listened to the radio and watched people. I intended to read, but there was a family of 4, including a boy of about 10 and one of about 4 and their parents, I assume. The small boy had the perfect kid-way of being, distracted but attentive to everything. He stuck his hand under the automatic hand-sanitizer dispenser about 10 times in one minute, he climbed in one of the big dryers! After loading their laundry the family disappeared and returned with coffee drinks, or hot chocolate I suppose for the kids, from the 7-11 down the street. There was a man on the bench in front of my car who would periodically check the trash can, for bottles and cans. And two women, both weathered and crippled in some way by life's weariness. The older of the two was particularly hunched, draped in a pink poncho that was sinched at the waste by a belt. Her face distorted and gait more of a shuffle. The younger, with a cain, hobbled inside to use the restroom. The older followed to wait at the door. I'm watching, wondering, making assumptions, judgements and from the parts of me that still carry some compassion, wishing that life were different, easier for these people...that it wasn't so hard on some of us while so easy on the rest of us. And then, with hot chocolate in hand, I see the little boy dart across the sidewalk, in front of my parked car, outside the laundromat to where the older woman waited at the door. He thrust a few dollar bills into her hand and returned running, delighted back to his parents, who were unmoved it seemed, just doing the right thing; doing the right thing by their child...agreeing to the kid's idea to give the strange old woman money or teaching him to be generous and compassionate, thoughtful of others and aware of how close we all are to being so broken by this world, or even by our own choices or mistakes. Since when was it so delightful to give? Even giving at Christmas to loved ones can be kind of a nightmare. And I've been far too jaded in my adult life to be so purely moved to give anyone anything without any strings attached, without wondering first how/why they deserve it or if they'll like it or be offended by the gesture. And I consider myself a pretty compassionate person. Yet, I saw those women there, and the man, and just felt saddened at the possibility that they had to find some place to sleep out of the rain that night, or the discomfort they might feel everyday just trying to walk or the wearisomeness of looking through trash cans to find cans to make a few extra cents to buy a snack or a meal but not moved to act with any compassion or kind gesture. I'm not naive enough not to wonder what got them in this position, but I'm also not naive enough not to also realize that life doesn't just come down to working hard enough or always making the right choices. But I do wish I could be just naive enough to walk up to someone without thinking twice, give them something and skip away delighted - not self satisfied - just delighted. There was something so precious and moving about watching that whole scene play out in front of me. There was no more interaction between them, though the family and the two women were at the laundromat for at least the remainder of my time there. They just continued about their own lives or business of doing laundry or just surviving, I don't know. I just know that surely, even if I can't come to grips with what the point of this whole big thing called life and love is all about, that small act of generosity/thoughtfulness/kindness/love mattered.