A Moment. In the M Train. Somewhere Between Brooklyn & Queens.

Hello my friends!  How are you all doing this late summer evening?  I'm here counting my lucky stars that I survived my commute today.  On my way out this morning, through a combination of unavoidable delays and my own naiveté, I spent two hours underground trying to make it to Brooklyn.  A mole could have tunneled there faster.  Needless to say, I was late to work in a serious kind of way.  I am wiser, though, and now I know that the F and the E are not in any way, shape, or form the same train, and that just because trains go to stops with the same name, they aren't all going to the same place.  Apparently, there are three Jamaica-s in Queens.  Be warned, my friends.

The way home was much more straightforward although not much quicker.  However, (and here I'll finally get to the point) I experienced an exceptional moment while sitting in the Queens-bound M.  It probably lasted for all of a heartbeat, but this little moment rooted me straight to the ground and yanked me into and out of awareness at the same time.

There I was, squished to the back of the car, leaning against those doors you're not supposed to lean against so that my creaky bones wouldn't give out on me.  A seat opened up, and the thuggy-lookin' dude next to me forcibly cleared a path and ordered me to sit down.  Bless his little heart!  Then, an elderly fellow took a seat to my right, and proceeded to pull out a red Tootsie Pop (aren't those the best?!) and an agricultural activism newsletter.  A baby in a snuggly, whose mom was subway surfing in front of me, fixed me in his tiny stare and started bouncing his wee left foot to the cadence of the train.  And a boy across the isle began steadily repeating "rock, paper, scissors" over and over again in rhythm.  

I nearly burst out laughing!  The individual human quirks that coalesced at that moment were fantastic!  And then, I took a look at myself, and what was I doing but sewing together a purple crocheted rose with a giant yarn needle, bits of mercerized cotton sticking out of my work satchel- just as quirky as the rest.

But see, that's what crochet allows me to do- to disconnect the oh-so-active part of my brain, focus on the rhythm of my hands, and finally perceive what's going on around me.  I am so thankful for that clarity of experience.  So I will continue to make my little subway roses, in hopes of appreciating the life around me that otherwise seems blurry and overwhelming.  Sometimes it ain't so great to be aware of what's happening next to you, but other times it's essential.

Bisous,
Mersydotes