If you spend more than about 5 minutes talking to me about my experiences so far in San Antonio, you will realize that I love riding the bus to work. I like not being completely in control of when I arrive, it makes me slow down & remember that waiting is OK. There is nothing that I hate more than traffic, paying for gas, the reality that one car for every person is excessive &, at times, driving in general.
I have been working at the photo booth that our office has out at the Department of Homeland Security offices. Basically, the photo booth allows clients at DHS to have their required passport-sized photos taken even after they are already through security & it's a little cheaper than the nearest photo booth. I was filling in for the man who usually works out there because he was ill. It was an interesting experience and not always uplifting. Some of the clients that come in are happy because they have recently passed their naturalization test & for the first time in a while, do not have to worry about the possibility of deportation, but for the most part, clients are nervous. Although many people may believe that the possibility of deportation goes away when you get a visa or receive resident status, that's not true. Until you are a U.S. citizen, the possibility of deportation is always real. On a more selfish note, I had a lot of down time to get bored & I missed my bus rides, I had to drive to work. The fact is, it was a rough week or so for me.
Today I returned to our office on the west side & things were busy enough to make up for the time I was gone. Between getting information out about our upcoming legal clinics & naturalization workshop & the usual Wednesday consultations & the mail run, I kept busy. I also went back to riding the bus.
This afternoon, not long after I got on the bus a man got on, sat down behind me & started playing the harmonica. I closed my eyes for a few seconds before I heard, "Mija, do you have change for a dime? Nickles, pennies?". I opened my eyes to see an older man with his palm open, a dime in it. I smiled, mostly because he had addressed me as mija (kinda of a contraction of mi & hija, "my child/daughter", it's common for anyone to refer to someone younger than them as mija or mijo), but also because of what he had asked. Change for a dime may seem silly in our world where a dime buys almost nothing anymore. I started digging in my bag, happy to get rid of change because I hate it. I found a few nickles & pennies & gave them to him. The man with the harmonica had stopped playing & said, "You have a good heart. Most people would have ignored him". Now, the goodness of my heart really could be hotly debated. Those 11 cents don't mean that I have a good heart. What struck me is that most people wouldn't have ignored just that man, most people ignore people, me included. The important part of my bus rides, my job (whatever building it's in & whatever it entails), & my life is to slow down, wait, & pay attention to the people who come in & out of my life. It does not really matter whether I am organizing clinics, taking pictures, saving the world, or washing dishes for work, but the relationships in my life. And for that I'm thankful...
I hope everyone can pause & take the time to slow down & enjoy the people in your life, even if they are just passing through to ask change for a dime.
en paz,
jenna
