The Man With The Plastic Bags

I went for a walk by myself on Sunday. It was peaceful. There weren't many people around as Sunday is supposed to be "The Day of Rest". (Personally I think it's more of a "I'm hungover from the weekend and I'm craving fried chicken" kind of day. At least in my town it is.) The thing about this walk was the fact that it gave me a chance to just be alone with my thoughts and observations, and I started to realize something.

How many of us actually take a moment everyday to really pay attention to what's going on around us? Seriously, do you even look at someone long enough,whether they're a significant other or a co-worker or even just a friend, to remember what they're wearing or how they're feeling or if they smiled at something you said yesterday?

I'm a writer so I'm supposed to pay attention to all the details around me. It's kind of like having a sixth sense. You're just supposed to be naturally nosey because if you're not, well, you aren't going to find anything juicy to write about, damnit. (And I refuse to go all Shattered Glass. Beyond unethical, He was just plain deceiving and in simpler terms a big, fat liar.) But I admit I'm a human too and sometimes we just get so caught up in what we are doing, we forget to actually pay attention when we don't have to.

So on my Sunday evening walk, I decided to take time out to pay attention.

As I was walking down one of the hills by where I live, I noticed a man. There was nothing unordinary or scary about him. He was quiet. He wasn't bothering anyone, but it was the way he looked at me when I finally got closer to him that made me do a double take. He was digging through the dumpster outside of one of the apartment complexes. He looked at me like he was ashamed of what he was doing. He seemed sad yet it appeared to me as if he was used to the digging, like it was a normal routine. As I got closer to him, I nodded and smiled shyly. I felt as if I had unintentionally intruded on someone's private moment for right after he looked at me, he moved away from the dumpster. I noticed his bike had a bunch of plastic bags hanging on the handle bar and in that moment, I knew the man with the plastic bags had a story to tell.

It was only after he got on his bike and rode away down the hill that I realized I had made a connection with a complete stranger without really doing or saying anything. There were a million questions I could come up with to figure out who he was. Was he looking for food? Was he looking for furniture? Did he live in the area? How often did he use his bike? Did he have a family to support?

 Although I won't ever see the man again, he certainly got me thinking about what it means to pay attention to others.

 And just think of all the stories people could write if they paid attention more often. (I'd probably be out of job.)

(P.S. The photo of all the plastic bags is enough to make you want to recycle every piece of plastic you ever owned.)