THOUGHTS OVER TACOS ON A TUESDAY

A couple weeks ago while engaging in my Tuesday ritual of stuffing myself with cheap tacos (filled with what I have heard is referred to as "meat"—sp?), I noticed a man come in by himself, order, and proceed to sit alone on the other side of the restaurant. Being the creeper that I am, I watched him while I finished my "meal." (Luckily for me, he has decided not to press any charges.)

While he didn't look incredibly sad or lonely, I couldn't help but feel how alone he was. He was just sitting there, arranging his sauce packets and reading a newspaper, waiting for his order. And when it came, he sat quietly and ate, then put his coat back on and walked out the door, the only sound he made over the restaurant's music the little electronic ding that echoed from the door as he closed it behind him. Later we saw him walking across the street a few blocks down, still alone. 

There's nothing that makes me more sad than seeing people who are lonely or made fun of. This is why watching movies featuring lonely people, especially the elderly, make me upset and why I cried like a baby while watching the movie Radio when I was seven. Anyway. I started thinking about this man in the taco shop, and how the only person who talked to him was the unenthusiastic woman behind the register who was required to. And I thought about my loathing for certain questions of the small talk variety that I am asked so frequently, like "What did you study in college?" "How long have you been married?" "Where are you from?" and my personal favorite, "How are you?" As all of these things culminated into some sort of sad epiphany in my head, I realized there are probably so many people out there who would love to be asked those questions, who long to have someone care enough to wonder. They would love to talk about where they're from, what they love to do, and even "how they are" that day. And, for whatever reason, they go through life not being asked those simple things.

In this moment I felt ashamed and rather selfish for taking the simple conversations in my life for granted. Because there was a man in a taco shop that maybe needed a simple conversation himself. Or maybe just a smile or an acknowledgement to remind him that he is a person worth acknowledging. We get so wrapped up in ourselves that we forget that, surprisingly, everything is not about us. It's not even all about those we know, or those we love. Our spheres of influence can be so much wider, so much more inclusive. I think there are a lot of people out there who wouldn't mind being a part of ours, even if just for a moment.