The Best Thing

My sister and I went to the city recently. We discovered new op shops, we eavesdropped on interesting conversations. We admired old and collectable books and breathed in the atmosphere of second-hand bookshops - it was quiet, almost reverent; like the feeling of a library, only magnified. We were amazed at how many books can fit into small shops, and realized how many books we haven’t and won’t ever hear about. We traipsed around the shopping area looking for a particular store with the not-always-helpful google maps. I managed to thoroughly embarrass my sister by forgetting how to operate a lift and which level we were supposed to get out on. We got honked at when I didn’t see a car as I pulled out, and we saw two vehicles collide right next to us. We had doughnuts, and ate them outside at the café table and chairs like normal people. I played a street piano which happened to be more in tune than ours at home. We walked, and talked, and laughed a lot. We joked about my parking skills. We just really enjoyed life, and we got ice cream on the way home. We saw so many people, but, as my sister said, everyone looked either sad or fake. Everyone except the friends we made.

When we finished exploring at our first stop, we noticed a guy busking across the street. As I put my coins in his guitar case, he interrupted his singing to say thank you, and added ‘you have beautiful hair.’ I said thank you and he said ‘have a beautiful day.’ We wished him the same. And, you know, that little interaction was somehow more rewarding than the impressive shelves of books and all the racks of clothes we’d just looked through.

As we were looking for a place to park next (mostly because I missed the obvious parking signs), I recognized a homeless man sitting near the mall entrance. It was the same man I met about a year ago. When we’d found a park, I walked past to make sure it was him, and asked my sister if she had any change. After we gave him the money, I asked if his name was Grant. He was taken aback and asked how I knew that. I told him I’d met him almost a year ago, and wanted to say hi after I saw him again. He seemed touched, and we got talking about where we were from, as it was evident I don’t come to the city often. It turns out he used to work on a property a few kilometres down the road from where we live! You know, the world seemed to slow down in that moment. People were rushing past, crossing the road and hurrying on, but here we were, leaning against a pole, having a good old yarn to a man who could’ve been our neighbour. My sister and I exchanged smiles afterwards and I knew she got it. 

We finished in that area, and were walking back to the car which was a couple of blocks away. Near the last entrance we had to go through was another man experiencing homelessness. He was a young guy, and he was holding a ginger striped kitten. We walked over, and as he saw our intentions he called out ‘God bless you!’ I asked about his cat as my sister gave him the coins, and he said its name was Eddy. ‘After Ed Sheeran,’ he added. He didn’t have lots of stuff; he didn’t even have warm clothes on. But, you know, I think he was the happiest person we saw. 

My sister and I talked about our day as we drove home. It had been full; we’d seen a lot of things, we’d had fun, we’d found stuff to buy and bring home. But we agreed the best part was our experiences with the busker and homeless guys. It was connection. That’s what we’ll remember. I’ll think of Grant when I drive past that property now. I’ll think of the guy with his orange kitty when I hear an Ed Sheeran song.  

So, you know, amidst a fun day out and the bustle of a city experience, I think I discovered one more secret to this life: the best thing we can give to our fellow human brothers and sisters is the gift of connection.