The ball went over the fence of the schoolyard and there was no way for the little boy to retrieve it — the gates were locked for safety just for such as that — cars were passing by on the street beyond the fence and gates.
A man stopped and got out of his car to fetch the ball and toss it back just as she got to her own gate with her keys to try to do the same for the young boy looking, grieving, hoping someone would come along and send it back.
She yelled across her fence to praise the man for stopping. The man lit up with a giant smile and got back in his car and rode away.
The bigger scheme of things.
Human blips and blobs that last for fractions of seconds thinking that we matter some. We do. We matter for fetching balls and holding someone crying’s hand and for the help we give to make a smile.
Oh, the teacher may have gone to get the ball in the long run, but why not one of us on the other side? If we can. If we see. While we can.
She just so happened to have been sitting near the window when the ball met her peripheral vision and she bounced, not unlike the ball, to try to rescue it since she could — since she was still able to stand up and walk and move in a little bit of a hurry. It might not be for long. It feels good to do good. It seems to make a day count as more.
They’re going by so quickly.
No one will remember that a bouncing ball was captured by a stranger.
Minute by minute. Second by second.
In billions of years what do they matter?
It would seem less lonely if something took us all out at the same exact time — we could all go away together — a meteor maybe.
As much as we seem to be trying to kill ourselves, it may not come in time for someone’s lonely exit.
It helps to do a good thing in the meantime.
Image credit: Fly Anakin