Bagel Trip

This is a story I’ve told on the internet before, but with a new ending, given the time that has passed since telling it.

Bagel Trip

I’m not a big fan of breakfast food in general, but the bagel holds a special place in my heart, so I was feeling pretty good walking into downtown Maplewood, anticipating a visit to the Bagel Chateau. It was brisk that saturday morning, so I’d grabbed a hoodie as I walked out the door, and the night of poker that ended a few hours earlier accounted for the bagginess of my eyes, almost equal to that of my jeans. Still, I was excited for my bagel and the weekend, so my spirits were up, even if I didn’t look it.

The easiest walking path to the Bagel Chateau takes you past a park that features a Little League field and Maplewood’s unofficial dog walkers’ hang out, both of which also bolstered my mood. For me, dogs and baseball both symbolize youthful exuberence and a reminder to enjoy life, as well as being generally pleasing in their own right. Youthful exuberence probably did not need to be symbolized in this situation; there was a toddler skipping behind me and gaining fast, but I’m addicted to metaphor and don’t really know where I stand on toddlers as a group.

Had I been paying attention it would have confused me that there was no one who looked like a parent on the heels of the toddler in question. As it was, I didn’t start paying attention until she passed me and tripped over a patch of uneven sidewalk, just a few steps ahead. A quick look for her parents revealed that I was the only person around to take action.

My first instinct was to comfort the fallen, who was now crying and inspecting her skinned knee. I checked myself, though, imagining a scraggly teenager kneeling over a crying toddler and the doubled worry of a parent observing this stranger. As I wondered if my being there would comfort the girl or spook her further- and how all this might play to an imagined protective mother, her real mother rounded a corner, swept her up, and smiled at me as if to say “Thanks for looking out for her.”

The mother’s gratitude highlighted for me how silly it was to stop to consider what concern for the helpless looks like. What was I going to do, run home to shave before lending a helping hand?

I suppose we are all sometimes confronted with aspects of our nature that we’d like to change. That’s how we learn that we’d like to change them. The same situation hasn’t come up again (even given subsequent trips to the Bagel Chateau) but I know that now, several years later, I wouldn’t hesitate to help. Then again, I’m not sure if that’s because I’ve grown as a person or if it’s because I finally like my haircut.