Road Trip – NaBloPoMo Day 2

I was on the road today. I got out early owing to the fact that the weather people said it *probably* wasn’t going to start sky-shiting until later in the afternoon, which means it could go at any time. I’ve always liked driving. When I was an incorrigible teen, my Da would stop me in the middle of whatever snit I was having and he’d say “let’s go for a drive”.

You can talk about anything on a drive. You don’t have to look anyone in the eye; you can just watch the fields and trees and farmyards fly by the window and let the crap that’s weighing on you come out as it sees fit. The distance and closeness together are comfortable.

As I neared the town that lost talented athletes, coaches, staff, and a driver this past spring, I felt a heaviness settle around me. I thought about how cruel it is for the whole world to keep doing things, any things, all things, when so many lives just stop. It’s only cruel to the living, of course; the world doesn’t care – its job is to be and to have been and to keep being. It’s only us who are cruel and who understand cruelty.

“Cruel” and “crude” are related. They’re cousins. They have the same Latin ancestor that meant hard-hearted or rough.

The last thing we should do is harden our hearts. There’s too much of that. It’s probably a reaction to feeling like you’re under attack. Nevertheless, let us not be cruel. A little kindness can go a long way, but a little cruelty can crush a soul.

What is an act of kindness you perform regularly? What acts of kindness do you most enjoy? What is a kindness you remember having experienced?

cenobyte
cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.

7 Comments

  1. Even now, when I do get home to visit my 90-year-old mom in Humboldt, and the weather is fine for travellin, we jump in the car and do a circuit of the surrounding environs, most often heading for her old stomping grounds, the Bruno/Viscount/Plunkett/Lucasville area. If we don’t get stopped even once by a slough or something and have to backtrack a ways, it’s not really a successful wander. The difference between “home” and where i live now is that at home you spend more time looking at the horizon, but when the horizon is the briny deep here, its even farther away…

  2. My favourite thing to do is go for a country drive on a weekend afternoon.
    I look for kindnesses to do but other than smiling at and saying hello to any and everyone, I don’t see many kindnesses I can do. Make Kiva loans? There’s one.
    I figure I’m doing my husband a kindness when I make a supper I wouldn’t make if I lived alone; i.e. not just toast. Of course I benefit from full meal deals too, so maybe it’s not kindness, maybe it’s self-serving.
    Hm.
    -Kate

  3. Trying to get into our new community, remember the names of residents (350) and staff (200), be nice most of the time – it’s exhausting. Little by little. People have been very kind to us, but we’re the ones who have to make a new life.

    Kindness goes a long way when living with other people; here it will mostly be ignoring the things that show someone is failing mentally (the physical failings are somehow easier), but is still here, still very much alive. We’re just on the 70 mark; we’re about the youngest here. That will roll forward, as it does, with time – and I hope I can either turn into a naturally kinder person (been struggling with that forever) or keep my filters up. It is hard. But that’s life, and this is what we chose.

    1. Those are lovely kindnesses! As someone who is ABSOLUTELY RUBBISH at remembering names, I understand, fundamentally, how that is a generous gift. It’s not that I don’t remember YOU. It’s that your name gets in my head and I’m so excited to learn who YOU are that your name floats away.

      I think you’ll do well. And I’m pulling for you!

i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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