A Man And A Gouge In A Wall

Driving down a busy street. On one side is a shopping center: a cluster of buildings that includes a grocery store, nail salon, fast food places and a mail store. On the other side of the street is a neighborhood surrounded by a tall stone wall. As I drove by, I saw a man walking along the sidewalk inbetween the street and the wall. He was carrying a backpack, walking in the same direction I was driving, so I only saw him from the back. In the instant that I glance over and saw him, he reached up and touched the wall at a spot near his head. The wall was made of smooth white limestone, but in the place he touched there was a dent, a gouge. The spot looked to be a little wider than my fist but not as deep. The man reached up and touched the gouged stone with one finger, then dropped his arm back to his side, never breaking his pace. By the time his hand had pulled away and resumed it's previous vertical place I had driven past. The man was in my rearview mirror for a moment, then gone.

I found this moment interesting, only because it is something that we all do. At some point or another, we've all had the urge to touch something without reason. We've all had the urge to listen a moment longer, say something before thinking about it, take a taste or a sniff, poke, prod or move something, yet we can't truly explain why. There is no meaningful explanation. Our mind tells us to do it and we do. The man walking down the street saw a gouge in a smooth wall and reached out and touched it. Of course, I don't know his story. Perhaps he did in fact have a reason for touching the wall in that particular place, such as an old and silly tradition with friends, or a fond remembrance of something. But he didn't slow his pace, and the touch appeared to be a random act. He did it without pause and possibly without reason. Humans tend to be textile beings. We like to touch and feel. It's a part of how we learn and explore and appreciate things.

Because I've touched stone, I can imagine it and describe it. Rough and hard, cool in the shade, warm in the sun. Because I saw the man, I can describe it. In a moment, I can imagine being in that man's place; walking down the sidewalk, seeing a gouge in a smooth wall, reach, touch, let my arm fall back to my side, eyes ahead once more, moving and passing, thoughts continuing elsewhere, possibly forgetting. Unless you were someone who wondered, "How did that gouge get there in the first place?" An accident? The weather? We could spin our lives around little things, little worries. But in the end, we're all just people going along, doing similar things at different times and different things at the same time. We're strangers and friends and enemies and family. Just remember that we're never alone. Look around: there's someone nearby doing the same thing you're doing or have done, and it connects us. Over all of that, over all of us, there's a reason and purpose for that too.