A Gentler Way

A little while ago I stood online for pastries at Gideon's.  Pies were on sale (half off!), and the line stretched nearly to the door. Two little girls, sisters, made faces at themselves in the mirror while their mother bought bread.  Behind me a boy waited excitedly with his father, both dressed in the black and white Orthodox tradition.  What kind of cookie can I get, Pappa, the boy asked, his brown eyes round with excitement.  His rather replied calmly, let's see what kind they have today.  The little boy almost shook with joy.

The decision must have been quick because as I exited with my pie, the little boy and his father followed closely behind.  The boy looked into a small paper bag and said, but I wanted a different one.  His father explained calmly, you said you wanted that one.  But I dooooon't! I want the otha one, the boy whined with disappointment veering on despair.  I thought, if only life's disappointments remained limited to those of a six year old, how tolerable life would be.

The boy's father remained unfazed and replied, his voice gentle and comforting, you're tired, let's go home and relax.  The boy wiped away a tear, and said sadly, OK Pappa.  There was no anger in the interaction, though there easily could have been.  And in that way, the two continued down the hill hand in hand, the boy clutching the bag with the cookie to his chest as if it were a treasure.  I walked away thinking I had witnessed something beautiful.
   

Columbia Circle Christmas Market

Lately the weather in NYC has been more unpredictable than normal.  Yesterday temperatures dipped into the thirties.  I wore a lightweight leather coat and shivered.  Today temperatures hovered in the fifties.  I wore my big down coat and sweated.  Poochini didn't mind, though.  And neither did the hundreds of people converging on the Columbus Circle Christmas market.  They squeezed tightly into the narrow lanes of the bazaar.  Each temporary shop was topped with a candy cane awning, each peddling unnecessary but tempting items: mittens shaped like bear claws, melt in your mouth chocolate truffles (based on a family recipe), Christmas ornaments, overpriced spices, and costume jewelry with semiprecious stones.  People stood on line for bratwurst, gluhwein, pretzels, empanadas, thai satay, and belgian waffles (representative of the Big Apple melting pot).

Poochini braved the hordes, and was rewarded with a pretzel that someone had dropped on the ground. We made slow progress, not just because of the crowds, but because Poochini is a social magnet.  What kind of dog is that, people asked.  I replied proudly, the Best Kind, and then filled in details:  a corgie sheeba mix.  Then the inevitable (true, not boasting):  what a great combination!  Is he friendly?  Boy is he ever, my usual reply.  So Poochini got a lion's share of loving this afternoon.  Even on the subway, with his head sticking out of a purple bag (subway rules-- pets must be in a bag), people couldn't resist smiling at his adorableness.

Now he is lying on the floor, one pooped Pooch after the afternoon's excitement.  And I am left thinking, as I often do, what a great choice I made in adopting him (true, even after I discovered just yesterday that he had a gastrointestinal accident on my shoes-- they were old anyway and needed to be thrown away).  Amazing that one little creature, just by being his friendly self, can change a life (mine), and bring joy so instantly to strangers in the Christmas market.